All Chapters of One Night Stand with My Stepdad: Chapter 91 - Chapter 100

The clinical, sterile scent of rubbing alcohol and antiseptic hung heavy in the private intake wing of Saint Jude’s Hospital.I sat rigidly on the edge of the examination table, my legs dangling above the polished linoleum floor, my fingers clutching the paper lining so tightly it crumpled beneath my palms. The bright fluorescent lights overhead hummed with a low, relentless vibration that made the sharp ache behind my eyes throb with every pulse of my heart.Elena arrives at the hospital with Chloe.Chloe paced back and forth across the small room, her hands shoved deep into the pockets of her long trench coat, her heels clicking nervously against the tile. She had met me at the side entrance twenty minutes ago, bypassing the public registration desk by using a private consultation code under a false surname.Her stress has become unbearable.My whole body was trembling—a subtle, involuntary shivering that ran from my icy fingers down to my toes. The air in my lungs felt thin, as tho

The heavy double doors clicked shut behind him, cutting off the low, sterile hum of the hospital corridor.Arthur stood just inside the threshold, his broad frame filling the doorway. The worn leather of his jacket was damp from the autumn rain outside, smelling faintly of cold air and old tobacco. For a long, agonizing moment, neither of us spoke. The silence in the room stretched so taut that the steady beep-beep-beep of my heart monitor felt unnaturally loud, echoing off the pale walls like a ticking clock.I stared at him, my throat locking up. Ten years had carved deep lines into his forehead and around his eyes. His hair, once dark and neatly slicked back in the old family portraits, was now cut short and heavily silvered at the temples. He looked older, weathered by a decade of quiet obscurity, but his eyes were the exact same warm hazel I remembered from my childhood.His gaze swept over me, taking in the IV line taped to my wrist, the pale skin of my arms, and the dark shadow

Eleanor Pov "Wait."Arthur's voice broke through the suffocating silence of the emergency room, thin and hollow. He stared at the doctor as though he had misunderstood him—as though the man in the white coat was speaking a language he couldn't comprehend."You mean... she isn't my biological daughter?"The doctor slowly shook his head, his hands resting flat against the metal chart in his lap. "Yes, sir. Your blood doesn't match hers. The surface antigens are entirely incompatible, which means you cannot donate blood to her. It is genetically impossible."Arthur stared at him.For several seconds, he didn't move. He didn't blink. The ambient hum of the hospital monitors seemed to freeze, suspended in the icy air of the room.Then his knees gave way.He dropped onto the floor with a dull, heavy thud against the polished tile."No..."His voice cracked, splintering into a sound of raw, unadulterated agony that made my chest ache."No, that can't be true."He covered his face with both

Vanessa Pov I watched my daughter that morning.She stood near the tall glass windows of the apartment, holding her coffee mug with both hands as if trying to leach warmth from the ceramic. Her shoulders were tense, her posture guarded in a way that made my chest tighten with an old, familiar instinct. When I asked her if she was ready for the day, she smiled—that tight, practiced smile she had perfected over the years—and told me everything was okay.She wasn't a little girl anymore. I couldn't keep asking her every few minutes what was wrong, pulling her hair back and checking her forehead for a fever like I used to when she was seven. She was grown. She had her own life, her own responsibilities at Vance Holdings, and her own burdens to bear.Still, something about her had been bothering me all week. The quietness. The subtle way her hands trembled when she thought I wasn't looking.I picked up my phone and sent a short, direct message to Alexander's father. I wanted to speak with

Elena Pov The room was quiet except for the low, rhythmic humming of the medical equipment and the soft, repetitive click of the infusion pump.I lay still beneath the heavy white sheets, watching the dark red liquid slowly trickle through the clear plastic tubing, inching closer toward the IV port taped to my wrist.My mother's blood.The fluid keeping me anchored to this world was flowing straight out of Vanessa's arm across the room and into mine. It was supposed to bring me warmth, strength, and life. Instead, every drop felt like an icy weight settling deep inside my chest.I couldn't stop thinking about what the doctor had said in that freezing hospital corridor.Your blood doesn't match hers.Arthur King wasn't my biological father.The agonizing truth repeated itself in my mind like a cruel, unending loop. The man who had held my hands when I took my first steps. The man who had stayed up with me through midnight fever spikes when I was six. The man who had proudly paid my tu