Todos los capítulos de One Night Stand with My Stepdad: Capítulo 81 - Capítulo 90

The evening fog rolled in thick off the East River, blanketing the manicured grounds of the Vance estate in a heavy, damp chill. Inside the primary drawing room, the gas fireplace crackled softly, casting long, flickering amber shadows across the cream silk wallpaper and polished mahogany trim.Marcus stood by the marble mantelpiece, his dark suit jacket discarded, his crisp white dress shirt unbuttoned at the collar with the sleeves rolled up to his forearms. He held a crystal tumbler of scotch, but he hadn't taken a sip. His posture was broad, rigid, and carved from solid dark stone, his silver-gray eyes fixed on the flames.Vanessa sat nearby on the velvet sofa, a delicate china teacup resting in her lap. Her golden-blonde hair was styled in a flawless, low chignon, and her emerald silk blouse caught the firelight with every subtle movement.The silence between them had lasted for minutes—a heavy, pressurized quiet that always preceded a storm.Marcus broke it. His voice was a low,

The quiet luxury of the bedroom felt smaller by the second, suffocated by the sudden, terrifying shift in the air."You should not try to leave without my permission, Elena," Vanessa said, her voice dropping into a low, metallic whisper that cut straight through the silence. "Not now. Not ever."I stared at her, a wave of genuine shock washing over me. "My permission?" I repeated, the word tasting sour and surreal on my tongue. "Vanessa, I am an adult. I run executive operations for one of the largest firms in the city. I don't need your permission to apply for a degree, nor do I need your blessing to leave."Vanessa took another half-step forward, her emerald silk blouse rustling softly. Her posture was taut, every line of her face carved into a mask of rigid, aristocratic control. "You live under the Vance name. You carry the weight of this family’s reputation every time you step out into public. You don't get to act like an impulsive girl playing at independence when millions of do

The sharp, abrasive screech of heavy leather and polished steel against the marble floor echoed off the glass walls, instantly killing the low hum of executive chatter.The entire board of Vance Holdings froze.Marcus stood.He rose to his full, towering height at the head of the conference table, his broad shoulders casting a long, dark shadow over the polished black granite. He didn't slam his hands down. He didn't raise his voice. He simply stood there, towering over the room like an unyielding mountain of iron, his dark suit jacket tight across his broad chest, his silver-gray eyes swept cold and lethal across the assembled executives.The silence that followed was heavy, suffocating, and absolute.Every man and woman in that room felt it settle over them like a physical weight. The air conditioning hummed faintly in the background, a distant, irrelevant sound against the sudden vacuum of noise. Outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, the city continued its indifferent pulse of traf

The grand drawing room of the Vance estate was silent, cold, and drenched in the dim golden light of the late afternoon sun filtering through the floor-to-ceiling arched windows.Outside, the wind rustled through the autumn trees, but inside, the air was dead quiet.Vanessa sat rigidly on the edge of the velvet armchair, her immaculate ivory suit unbuttoned, her golden hair perfectly pinned, though her emerald eyes burned with an intense, restless panic. Across from her, I sat on the edge of the leather sofa, my hands resting flat on my knees. I had changed out of my tailored office suit into a soft, oversized cream knit sweater—a subtle shield to protect my waistline, though my hands were cold as ice.At home, Vanessa sits Elena down.She didn't offer tea. She didn't indulge in polite high-society greetings. She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees, her sharp gaze locking onto mine with terrifying focus."Why?" Vanessa asked, her voice dropping into a low, strained whisper

The silence of the estate at two in the morning was vast, heavy, and suffocating.I lay flat on my back in the center of my large bed, my eyes staring up at the dark shadows dancing across the vaulted ceiling. Outside, the cold rain lashed continuously against the glass, a persistent, hollow drumming that echoed the chaotic pulse racing in my veins.Elena cannot sleep.Every time I closed my eyes, the high-pressure noise of the boardroom and the quiet violence of the drawing room rushed back to flood my mind. The dark velvet curtains of my bedroom were drawn tight, but no amount of physical darkness could shut out the relentless wheel of thoughts spinning inside my head.She keeps thinking about Vanessa.My mother’s face kept flashing before my eyes—not as the loving, protective mother I had spent twenty-two years idolizing, but as the calculated, sharp-eyed strategist who had looked at me earlier today. “Your place is here. In Manhattan. With us.” The words sounded less like maternal