All Chapters of Bound by Sin: The Heir & His Stepmother: Chapter 101 - Chapter 105

Waking up late, by my standards, was something I hadn’t experienced in years. Normally, the first alert from my systems would drag me out of bed before six in the morning, my fingers flying over the keyboards even before my eyes were fully open. Today, the sun was already high when consciousness decided to return to my body.And what a body.Every muscle ached. Not from fatigue—although the fatigue was there, heavy and deep—but from a different kind of use. Intense. Animal. I shifted in bed, feeling the absence of the warmth that had accompanied me through the night. Her scent was still on the pillow. Flowers. Something sweet. Something that left me dizzy even after hours.Anya was no longer there. But her marks were. Bites on my shoulder. Scratches on my back. An immediate erection stirred, and I had to ignore it with sheer willpower because if I started thinking about what happened the night before, I wouldn’t be able to get out of bed.I got up with a groan. My right leg was numb—p

The dinner was simple—pasta with tomato sauce and grated cheese, because it was what August would eat without complaining. We ate at the kitchen table, the three of us together, like a normal family. As if there weren’t a Cassius out there, with his men and his weapons, searching every city for us.“Dad,” August said, fork suspended in the air. “After we dyed our hair, do I still look like me?”“You do. Just with lighter hair.”“And Mommy?”“Mommy looks like Mommy. With different hair.”“And you?”“I look like me.”He looked at me for a moment.“You look younger.”Aurora laughed.“It’s the brown hair. It takes a few years off.”“He doesn’t need to look younger. He needs to look more alive.”Silence fell over the table. August, oblivious to the depth of his own phrase, went back to twirling the pasta on his fork.…Later, when August was already in bed and the house was quiet, Aurora picked up the phone. The number wasn’t saved in the contacts—she typed it from memory, as if it were a

Paraty was more beautiful than the pictures in the magazine.The jet landed at a private airport on the outskirts of the city, and a black car was waiting for us. Tristan helped August down—the boy was more awake now, his eyes wide at the green mountains, the blue sky, the hot and humid air coming through the open windows.“Mommy, where are we?” he asked, his voice small and amazed.“In Brazil, my love.”“Is it far?” he wanted to know.“Very far.”“Are we going to stay here?”“We are.”He smiled—that gap-toothed smile—and nestled into Tristan’s lap.The car traveled along winding roads lined with Atlantic forest, the tall trees forming a green tunnel over us. The sea appeared from time to time, turquoise blue, shining under the afternoon sun.Green islands dotted the horizon, and imposing mountains rose in the background, covered in mist.“It’s beautiful,” I whispered, more to myself than to anyone.“It is,” Tristan agreed, his voice low.The car passed through a stone gate, and a hou