All Chapters of Owned By My Stepdad(MxM): Chapter 211 - Chapter 220

Monday had been a total blur of lawyers, financial wire transfers, and Vane casually deleting two mid-level shell companies off the face of the earth while we ate sushi in his penthouse. But by Tuesday morning, reality came knocking in the form of a high-priority calendar alert on my phone: European History Mid-Term. Thursday. 09:00 AM.Because apparently, even if your stepfather is a billionaire CEO who is currently hostile-takeovering a mafia council, and even if your best friend is an shipping heiress, university professors do not care. You miss the exam, you fail the class.Which is exactly how Bella and I ended up sitting in the back row of the campus lecture hall at eight in the morning, trying to act like we hadn't arrived in a bulletproof convoy."I'm literally running on three hours of sleep and pure spite," Bella muttered, slamming a triple-shot iced macchiato onto her desk. She looked perfectly put together, of course, wearing a designer knit sweater and gold hoops, but h

The penthouse elevator chimed with a soft, expensive tone that signaled our arrival into Vane’s private sanctuary. The doors slid open to reveal the sweeping, floor-to-ceiling glass walls overlooking the downtown skyline, the city lights below looking like a scattered tray of diamonds in the Tuesday evening dark.I dropped my heavy history binder onto the sleek marble console by the entrance, letting out a long, exhausted sigh. My shoulders felt lighter after my conversation with Kai in the archives, but the sheer mental fatigue of pretending to be a normal student while walking around with a target on my back was finally catching up to me."Marcus said your convoy met absolutely zero resistance on the bridge," Vane’s deep, velvety voice drifted from the sprawling living area.I looked up, my eyes instantly catching him. He had already discarded his suit jacket from earlier, the sleeves of his crisp white dress shirt rolled up to his forearms as he stood by the wet bar, pouring two

Thursday morning arrived with the crisp, unforgiving clarity of a high-stakes execution.The campus clock tower was just striking eight when Vane’s armored convoy pulled into the restricted faculty lot behind the humanities building. The blacked-out SUVs idled with a low, menacing purr that made a group of nearby freshmen instantly stop and stare. To them, it looked like a high-level diplomatic visit. To me, it was just a regular Thursday morning commute.Bella stepped out of the vehicle first, adjusting her oversized designer sunglasses and smoothing down the lapel of her tailored blazer. "If the air conditioning in this lecture hall is broken again, Elias, I am personally buying the department and firing the facilities manager before lunch."I slid out right behind her, slinging my heavy leather backpack over my shoulder. "Relax, Bell. Vane had his tech team inspect the building's infrastructure last night while they were sweeping the rooms for audio bugs. The thermostat is set to

The private estate in St. Tropez didn’t just feel like a temporary escape; it felt like a complete reset button on our entire reality.The villa sat perched on a rugged, sun-drenched cliff overlooking the brilliant azure expanse of the Mediterranean Sea. The architecture was classic French Riviera—stucco walls draped in blooming pink bougainvillea, wide stone terraces, and a sprawling infinity pool that seemed to spill directly into the ocean horizon. Down below, the estate’s private cove was entirely blocked off from the public, flanked by steep rocks and guarded by the elite security team Vane had flown in earlier.It was Thursday evening by the time we arrived, and the warm, lavender-scented breeze was a far cry from the exhaust-choked streets of the university campus.I was standing out on the master suite's terrace, wearing nothing but a pair of white linen trousers, my bare feet resting against the sun-warmed stone. The Mediterranean sun was finally dipping below the water, b

The private path leading down to our cove was carved directly into the face of the limestone cliff, a winding staircase of white stone shaded by ancient, twisted olive trees. By the time my bare feet hit the powdery, sugar-white sand of the beach, the heat of the Mediterranean afternoon was radiating off the rocks, thick and heavy with the scent of wild rosemary and salt.Down by the shoreline, the emerald green of Bella’s kaftan was a sharp contrast against the turquoise water as she tore across the wake on a custom black jet-ski, leaving a line of glittering white foam behind her. Marcus and another security guard stood a respectful distance away under the shade of a massive canvas umbrella, their eyes scanning the empty horizon with binoculars.But I wasn't looking at Bella, and I wasn't looking at the horizon.I was looking at Vane.He was walking just a step ahead of me, his long, powerful strides effortless on the shifting sand. The white linen of his shirt caught the sea bree