All Chapters of Stepdad’s Pet, His Son’s Plaything : Chapter 51 - Chapter 60

88 Chapters

The Judas trap

JORDAN’S POVThe drive away from the house wasn't a retreat; it was a deployment. My hands, which had been shaking moments ago in front of Ruth, were now steady on the steering wheel. The panic had calcified into a cold, hard resolve. If Toni Donald wanted a plaything, I would give her one—but I would choose the playground.My phone buzzed on the passenger seat. I didn't even look at it. I already knew what it said. I waited until I was miles away from the quiet, judgmental suburbs of our new neighborhood before I pulled over into a dimly lit gas station.I typed back with a clinical precision: Not the penthouse. Alex is a fool, but he’s a fool with security cameras and staff who talk. If I’m seen entering your building at 1:00 AM, the video of me and Emma won't matter because we’ll both be dead by morning. Meet me at the address I’m sending. Wear a disguise. Use a rental. I’ll be waiting.I didn't give her a chance to argue. I sent the coordinates for a sterile, anonymous Airbnb in

The collapsing cathedral

EMMA’S POVThe screen of my phone lit up the dark dorm room like a flare, the vibration rattling against the mahogany nightstand. I reached for it, my skin still buzzing from the contact of the girl lying beside me. The text from my mother was a rough, desperate thing—a scream captured in pixels.He’s cheating. I can smell it on him—that stinky, cheap perfume... the pedestal is broken. He went to her again tonight and lied to my face. Another message came from her in seconds. He said he was going to get raw material or something. Emma you were just defending him the other day, you know he’s cheating on me, don’t you?A cold, sharp weight settled in my gut. I didn't care about my mother’s heartbreak; I cared about my territory. If my father was out at midnight, it wasn't for "raw materials." I knew the "Saint" better than anyone, and the thought of another woman’s hands on him— another woman’s scent on his skin— made my blood boil with a possessive fury.I hit his contact and called

The cold bolt

RUTH’S POVThe digital chime of the sent message felt like pulling a trigger. I watched the notification vanish, knowing that miles away, in some sterile dorm room, Emma’s phone was lighting up with the wreckage of our family. I didn't feel the surge of guilt I expected. Instead, a strange, cauterized calm settled over me. Jordan had spent years building a cathedral of lies, and I had just lit the first match.I didn't cry. Crying was for women who still had something to lose. I sat on the edge of the guest bed, the silk of my robe cool against my skin, watching the shadows of the mansion stretch like long, grasping fingers across the floor.The door creaked—a low, heavy sound that didn't belong to Jordan’s frantic, apologizing rhythm. Reign stepped into the room. He didn't turn on the lights; he didn't need to. He moved through the darkness with the steady, grounded confidence of a man who owned the shadows."He’s gone, Ruth," he said, his voice a deep resonance that seemed to vibr

The shadow in the hall

REIGN’S POVThe Blackwood Empire was built on foundations of reinforced glass and absolute silence, but I was the one who knew exactly where the structural cracks were hidden. I hadn't survived the grit of the streets or the high-stakes pressure of elite security details by taking a man’s word at face value—especially not a man like Jordan Blackwood. He was unraveling. The way he’d begged me to "fix" things with Ruth, the frantic, bloodshot energy in his eyes, and that lingering, cloying scent of desperate deception hanging off his suit like a shroud... it wasn't about Emma this time. This was a new rot, a fresh infection in the "Saint’s" blood.I followed him to the firm the next morning, keeping a disciplined three-car gap between my discreet black sedan and his armored SUV. I watched from the shadows of the concrete parking garage as he hurried toward the private executive elevator, his shoulders hunched as if he were physically carrying the weight of the entire city's expectati

The higher bidder

REIGN’S POVI sat in the front seat of my sedan, the silent hum of the engine matching the vibration of the black burner phone in my hand. I had pulled the number from Jordan’s private directory while he was busy scrubbing the sweat from his forehead in the executive washroom. The "Saint" was a sloppy man when he was terrified, leaving digital breadcrumbs for anyone with the stomach to follow them.I hit the dial. It didn't even ring twice."Jordan? I told you, don't call me unless you’ve cleared your afternoon," Toni’s voice purred through the speaker, dripping with a cold, cultured boredom."Not Jordan," I said, my voice dropping into a low, gravelly resonance. "This is the man who walked into the office this morning. The one you ignored on your way out."There was a sharp, clinical silence on the other end of the line. I could almost hear her brain recalibrating, shifting from predator to cautious observer."The help," she finally spat, her tone sharp with dismissal. "I don't deal

The debt collector

JORDAN’S POVThe office was no longer a sanctuary of power; it had become a pressurized glass chamber. Every time the desk phone chimed, my heart did a frantic dance against my ribs. I was a man caught between three fires: my wife’s icy silence, Toni’s predatory extortion, and the dark, rhythmic pull of my own daughter. When the private line—the one only she had the number for—vibrated against the mahogany, the sound was like a gunshot."Dad," Emma’s voice drifted through the speaker, sharp and thin. "Three days. You’ve been hiding behind 'shipping manifests' and 'merger crises' for seventy-two hours. You made a promise to make it worth my while, and I’m still sitting here in this room, rotting, waiting for my installment.""Emma, sweetheart, please," I rasped, rubbing the bridge of my nose. The agonizing, metallic taste of absolute stress was constant now, a permanent film on my tongue. "Your mother is on the warpath. She’s locked herself in the guest wing. She’s suspicious, she’

The alter of the damned

REIGN’S POVThe Mercury Hotel smelled of expensive regret and the kind of antiseptic anonymity that promised to bury a person's darkest indiscretions for a price. But Room 4112 had transformed into something far more primal—a heavy, musk-laden vault of absolute conquest. Toni Donald, the woman who held the city’s elite in a vice grip of blackmail, was currently pinned to the clinical white sheets, her high-and-mighty status stripped away along with her clothes.Her blonde wig lay discarded on the patterned carpet like a dead animal, revealing the dark, damp roots of her real hair and the frantic, visible pulse at her throat. I didn't give her the hesitant, "Saintly" treatment she’d grown accustomed to with Jordan. I wasn't there to be her toy or a victim of her extortion. I was there to be her master.I moved with a lethal, rhythmic aggression that shattered her carefully maintained composure within the first five minutes. I fucked her until the tears started to leak from the corn

The mercenary’s submission

REIGN’S POVThe tension in the room had shifted from a standoff to a predatory invitation. Bobby—the man I now knew as the heavy-set shadow who guarded Toni—didn’t look like a savior. He looked like a man who had spent too many years in the front seat of a car, smelling the expensive perfume of a woman he was never allowed to touch."You want to tell Alex?" I challenged, my voice dropping into a dark, gravelly resonance as I stepped into his personal space. I could see his eyes tracking the lines of my body with a hunger that wasn't professional. "Or do you want to see what all the fuss is about, Bobby? Because I think you’ve spent too many years watching. You’re starving, aren't you?"Bobby didn't answer with words. His jaw tightened, his breathing becoming a heavy, rhythmic rasp. He looked at Toni, who was huddled on the edge of the bed, then back at me. With a sudden, violent motion, he kicked the door shut, the heavy thud of the door followed by the decisive click of the deadbol

The mirror cracked

RUTH’S POVThe drive to Jordan’s office was supposed to be a routine visit, a way to bridge the gap that had been growing between us like a fault line. But as I pulled into the private executive lot, the air felt different—thinner, colder. Jordan wasn’t in his office. His desk was barren, the mahogany surface wiped clean of his usual clutter, and the heavy silence of the room felt like a physical accusation.I didn’t wait for his assistant. I walked straight to the floor manager, a man who had been with Jordan since the firm’s inception."Where is he?" I asked, keeping my voice steady, though my pulse was hammering a frantic rhythm against my ribs.The manager hesitated, his gaze darting toward the security monitors. "Mr. Blackwood left earlier, Mrs. Blackwood. He… he had visitors.""Visitors?""Toni Donald," he said, and the name hit me like a splash of ice water. "She’s been here quite a bit lately. This wasn’t her first or second visit. It’s been… a recurring arrangement. And then

The fractured foundation

JORDAN’S POVThe house felt less like a home and more like a mausoleum. The silence was heavy, pressurized by the secrets I had left festering in the guest wing. I stood in the foyer, the cold, stale air of the entranceway prickling against my skin. There was no sign of Ruth—no perfume, no familiar rustle of silk, no accusatory glare. The dining room was a ghost town, the meal I’d expected her to be enjoying now sitting untouched, the food congealed and lifeless under the clinical light of the chandelier.I checked the master suite first, my heart thumping a frantic, irregular rhythm against my ribs. The room was untouched, the bed perfectly made, and the walk-in closet—the only place she sometimes went to hide—was empty. I felt a surge of cold dread. She wasn't just hiding; she was retreating into the fortress of her own mind, where I couldn't reach her.I hurried to the guest wing, my boots echoing like gunshots on the marble. I reached the door of the visitor’s room and gripped t

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