All Chapters of Owning My Stepfather:A Forbidden Romance: Chapter 1 - Chapter 9

Elias ThorneYour father is dead. I stared at the notification plainly before setting the phone down.I replayed the words over and over again in my head until the logic part of me connected with my emotions. My chest constrained, hands clenched on my laps,palms sweaty,my breathing ragged. I frowned trying to understand if there was any other meaning to the message. I couldn't find any.The world didn't stop. The professor keep on rambling, the two girls behind me were not doing a good job at keeping their tone down and hiding their gossip , the guy beside me kept chewing his pen. Everything kept moving on.The world didn't stop but I wish it had.I started at the front,words getting blurred by my tears.I didn't wipe it away. I couldn't move. My muscles felt like they had been replaced with lead, pinning me to the chair while the rest of the room carried on in its nauseatingly normal rhythm."Mr. Thorne? Are you with us?”I couldn't move. I tried to but everything was still yet mo

EliasThe first morning in the Vance estate felt like waking up inside a refrigerated vault.I laid in bed, staring at the ceiling. My father’s house had always felt lived-in—there were stacks of old magazines in the corner, the faint scent of his pipe tobacco in the drapes, and a warmth that didn't depend on the thermostat. Mother hated it The Vance estate was different. It was a masterpiece of glass, steel, and silence. Everything was curated; every vase was positioned to the millimeter. I felt like a smudge on a clean window, a flaw in William’s perfect composition.I finally dragged myself out of bed, pulling on a silk robe that felt too expensive for my skin. I needed coffee. I needed to move before the walls started closing in on me.When I reached the kitchen, William was already there. He wasn’t in the stiff morning suit from yesterday, but even in a charcoal turtleneck and dark slacks, he looked terrifyingly put together. He was leaning against the counter, a tablet in one

William VanceThe door clicked shut, the sound echoing through the silence of my study. I didn't move. I stayed by the window, watching the reflection of the empty room in the glass until the tension in my shoulders finally began to thaw.My hand was still warm where I had brushed the hair from his forehead.I looked down at my fingers, then tightened them into a fist. This was supposed to be a standard integration. I had mapped out the Thorne merger with the same precision I used for the Midtown skyscraper project: stabilize the assets, secure the inheritance, and manage the human variables.But Elias Thorne wasn't a variable. He was an anomaly.I picked up my glass, the scotch tasting like ash. I had told him he was an "interesting project," but that was a lie of omission. The truth was, his eyes—that burning, unfiltered hatred—were the only thing in this house that felt alive. Every time I provoked him, every time I tightened the leash, I wasn't just checking his stability. I was

Elias Thorne I sat in the front row of the Advanced Torts lecture, my skin crawling. I could feel the professor’s eyes darting to me every few minutes—no doubt checking to see if I was paying attention. William hadn't just put a collar on me; he’d turned the entire university into my cage. "Mr. Thorne?" Professor Gable’s voice cut through my spiraling thoughts. "Perhaps you’d like to offer your analysis on the liability of the architect in the Bridgeview collapse?" I sat up, my jaw tight. "The liability isn't just in the materials, Professor. It’s in the arrogance of the designer. They think they can control the elements, but they forget that even steel has a breaking point when the pressure is applied in the right spot." Gable blinked, surprised by the bitterness in my tone. "A... creative interpretation, Elias. But correct on the legal merits." I didn't hear the rest of the lecture. I spent the hour sketching jagged, sharp lines in the margin of my notebook, my mind racing.

Elias Thorne The air in the dining room was different today. The morning’s electric friction in the gym had been replaced by a heavy, suffocating formality. I stood by the window, adjusting the cuffs of my white dress shirt. I had chosen a charcoal blazer, sharp, tailored, and utterly stifling. My mother sat at the far end of the table, her fingers tapping a nervous rhythm against the wood, while William stood by the sideboard, pouring wine with a hand so steady it felt like an insult. Then, the doors opened.Barret Vance invaded the room, his head held up high, shoulders rolled back. He was broader than William. His eyes, sharp and predatory, skipped over Claire and William before locking onto me. "So," Barret rumbled, his voice like gravel under a heavy wheel. "The prodigal son returns to the fold. I was beginning to think you were being kept a secret, away from me. One could have thought you were dead.”"I’m very much alive, Barret," I said, stepping away from the window. I f