Lahat ng Kabanata ng Now You Want me Back Step Brother : Kabanata 1 - Kabanata 6

Madonna's POV I woke up alone.The sheets on Cal’s side were stone-cold. No note. No text. Nothing but the faint scent of him still clinging to my skin and the deep, heavy satisfaction pulsing between my legs. Last night was real. God, it had been so real.Cal and I had done it. My stepbrother. The man I’d loved since I was twelve.I sat up slowly, wincing at every sore muscle — proof that he’d lost control and fucked me like he’d been starving for me. Bruises on my hips where his fingers had dug in. Love bites blooming dark on my throat and breasts. Scratch marks down my back. Marks that screamed possession. Marks that should have made me feel wanted, not shattered.And then he’d disappeared.I grabbed my phone with shaking fingers and called him. It rang six times before he picked up.“I’ll call you back.” His tone was flat and icy, a far cry from the fiery man in bed last night who had fucked me. In the next second, silence filled the receiver, and the line went dead.I tri

Madonna's POV Ella Blake in full victory mode was a particular brand of poisonous. She glowed in ivory silk, a smile wide enough to swallow her face. Her two friends stood like useless brackets on either side.“Congratulations, Ella,” I said flatly.She tilted her head. “That’s it? No hug? No happy tears?” Her eyes swept my navy dress with open satisfaction. “You look tired, Madonna. This evening must be hard for you.”“I’m fine.”“Of course you are.” She stepped closer, voice dropping to a vicious whisper. “You’ve always had this habit of reaching for things that were never meant for you. It must be exhausting, always wanting what you can’t have.”Something inside me snapped clean in half.But I wasn't going to stay silent. And I certainly wasn't kind enough to let Ella believe she was the happiest woman in the world while she rubbed her happiness in my face like she'd won some kind of prize.“You’ve been chasing Cal’s attention since the first year of college and he has never once

Madonna's POV I stopped counting at day one hundred and one because the wall ran out of space, and I only knew the number because I'd been scratching a mark for every day with the broken edge of that plastic cup, five at a time in neat little rows starting from the window. It made me feel less insane, like proof that time was still moving and I was still here.The days in that place had no shape. The fluorescent lights took the place of the sun, the meals came at the same time, doors opened and closed, and the guards took their sweet time beating the patients who couldn't fight back. I used to wonder if there were others like me in there, people who were sane and knew it, people who fought back like I did, and if the place had already broken them. It hadn't broken me yet, but it left scars on my face and on parts of my body my own eyes couldn't reach, and sometimes I caught my reflection in the metal sink and barely knew the woman looking back.The nurses were the worst part, honestl