All Chapters of Ruined by my Bully Stepbrother: Chapter 111 - Chapter 120

  Emily's POV I dropped the coffee pot when Dora came through the door. Glass shattered across the kitchen floor. Dark liquid spread like blood. I stood frozen. Staring at my daughter's face. She looked wild. Eyes too bright. Skin flushed. Nate was behind her. His hand on her back. Steadying her. Something had happened. Something big enough to make my carefully controlled daughter lose composure. "Mom." Her voice shook. "We need to talk. It is about Dad." My knees went weak. I gripped the counter. "What about your father?" "He might be alive." The words tumbled out fast. Desperate. "Vincent told us before he died. Dad survived. He has been hiding all these years." The kitchen tilted. Walls closing in. I could not breathe. Could not think. Thomas. My Thomas. Alive. Impossible. I mourned him. Spent years learning to function without hi

 Theodora's POV I almost set my calculus final on fire. The equation blurred in front of me. My mind wandered to Prague. To my father. To researchers disappearing without a trace. Silver energy sparked at my fingertips. Small crackling bursts that made the paper smoke. I clenched my fists. Forced the power down. Forced myself to focus on integrals and derivatives instead of dimensional barriers and missing persons. Mr. Henderson walked past my desk. I held my breath. Prayed he had not noticed the scorch marks. "Ten minutes." His voice echoed through the silent classroom. "Finish up." I scribbled answers I barely processed. My handwriting was messy. Frantic. This test that used to matter so much now feels meaningless. Who cared about calculus when my father might be alive? When were people vanishing? When did the world kept threatening to tear itself apart? Still, I finished. Turned in my

  Theodora's POV My grandfather was a stranger with my father's eyes. We sat in a coffee shop three blocks from the graduation venue. Far enough for privacy. Close enough that I could run if needed. Elias Steele ordered black coffee and sat across from me with the bearing of someone used to commanding rooms. Nate pressed against my side. Protective. Ready to act if this goes wrong. Mom sat on my other side. Her face was pale. She had never met Thomas's father. Never knew he existed. "You are supposed to be dead," I said it bluntly. No softening. "Dad told me his parents died before I was born." "Thomas told you what he believed was necessary." Elias's voice was measured. Careful. "We were estranged. Had been for years. Easier to say I was dead than explain why we did not speak." "Why did you not speak?" Mom leaned forward. Her tone was sharp. Accusing. "

  Nate's POV Dora shattered in my arms the night before the mission. We were alone in our room at the safe house. Trying to sleep. Failing miserably. She curled against me. Trembling. Not from cold but from fear so deep it made her bones ache. I held her close. Wished I could absorb her terror. Take it into myself and leave her empty of everything except courage. But that was not how this worked. Fear was personal. Individual. All I could do was share the weight. "What if he does not recognize me?" Her voice was muffled against my chest. "What if years of torture broke him? What if I get there and he is just a shell?" "Then we bring the shell home." I kissed the top of her head. "We bring him home and we help him remember who he was. Who he is. We do not give up." "I am so scared." The admission cost her. Dora hated showing vulnerability. Hated admitting

  Nate's POV I woke to the sound of Dora crying. Not loud sobs. Quiet tears that broke my heart more than screaming would have. I tried to move. Could not. Chains wrapped around my wrists. My ankles. My throat. Heavy. Cold. Carved with symbols that burned when I pulled against them. The metal suppressed my strength. Made me weak. Human. Helpless. "Dora." My voice came out rough. Raw. "Baby are you okay?" "Nate." Relief flooded her tone. "You are awake. Thank god you are awake." I turned my head. Saw her chained beside me. Five feet away. Too far to touch. Her face was streaked with tears. Dirt. Blood from a cut on her temple. But she was conscious. Alert. The paralysis had worn off. That was something. "Are you hurt?" I pulled against the chains. They did not budge. "Did they hurt you?" "No." She shook her head.