I'm Only A Stepmother Novel Novels & Stories

I sighed. "Honestly, I don't think it's Michael you have to be afraid of." She mumbled. "What could be more scary than a man bitter that a lady turned him down?" I snorted. "A woman whose husband brought his ex's child to their home, the lady of the house, your stepmother." She blurted and cringed. "I didn't mean to say it like that, but Beatrice is well..." "A b*tch. My stepmother is a b*tch and is probably going to make my life a living hell." I said bluntly.

I had to survive on my own. My stepmother, Sally, was a different story entirely. My father didn't maltreat me in any other form apart from ignorance but then, my stepmother ticked the remaining boxes. She was especially sly, envious, and cruel. She would fabricate lies against me to get me punished by my father. She took sides with her daughter, Emily, no matter how wrong she was. I didn't mind this at all. All I blamed was fate for allowing my own mother to die at such an untimely age.

I want to swear up a storm to Catherine, but I’m too busy shaking from pain and a little bit of rage. My stepmother laughs at my clear sign of pain, throwing back her head. She tosses the tape aside. “Pathetic little thing,” she muses to herself. “Always so weak.” To the side, I can see Noah clench his jaw in the direction of Catherine. They may be on the same side right now, but Noah’s clearly not comfortable watching my stepmother hurt me. He bares his teeth, not enough that she’ll notice. But I do. Maybe I can work with this.

Delicate, polished, enviably untouchable. “Do you remember what I told you?” I asked, stepping into the room, my arms folded across my chest. “You are Grace; from this moment forward, Leila Marrow does not exist to you. And I…” I took a deep breath and continued. “I am your stepmother.” Leila turned her gaze to me, her lips curved into that obedient smile she had mastered. “Of course, Mother. I understand everything you told me last night.” “Very well, then.” I gave her a slight nod. “When it’s time, I’ll send someone to fetch you. Stay in this room until then. No unexpected movements.''

"I bet they make you crawl. Make you service them on your knees like the little whore you are." "Stop—" "How long do you think you'll last?" My stepmother tilted her head, studying me like I was an insect. "We had a bet, you know. I gave you three months before you end up like their other wives. Dead and buried." "I said six months," Luna added. "You always were tougher than you looked. So fucking stubborn." "The year's not over yet," my stepmother said, her smile vicious and cold. "Plenty of time for you to join your whore mother in the ground. I wonder if they'll even bother to bury you, or if they'll just toss your body in a ditch somewhere."

If you find yourself drawn into the world and emotions within these pages, I ask for your support — your reads, votes, shares, and reviews mean more than you know and help my work reach others. Thank you for giving my story a chance. 🤍 CHAPTER 1 Araceli “Will you drop that plate, you fat pig?” my stepmother snapped. I flinched, my fingers tightening around the ceramic plate of tortilla española as it clattered dangerously close to the edge of the table. My throat went dry, and for a second, I thought I’d stop breathing. My stepmother’s sharp heels clicked against the marble floor as she crossed the dining room towards me. Her perfume hit me before she did, that cold and expensive scent that

The kinky stepmom was a voracious nympho and curious about her teenager's perception of her as she read her special boy's first story of their taboo deeds recorded in the journal. As she read the whole thing she realized it was a mix of real and fake events leading up to their first time together in the family kitchen. As the stepmother waited for her stepson to return home from school she made a mental note to pound her boy toy extra hard with her dick riding muff to make him sorry for being so stupid. She read her stepson's short-story in his journal with her finger over her pink slit to begin rubbing her matronly pink nub and the curious stepmom began to read while waiting for her stepson

Maddie Since the beginning, it's been a relentless pursuit of perfection—planning and shopping consumed my days. My stepmother's lists were my guide, demanding precision. Stephanie, my stepsister, embodied the ideal bride in this whirlwind. In quiet moments, I attempted to breach her fortress, pleading with her to address the chaos with our father. "Stephanie, can we talk for a minute?" I implored, her gaze meeting mine in the mirror. "Sure," she replied, a subtle glare revealing her irritation.

By the time I finished my duties, it had gotten soaked. A long sigh left me. The hierarchy in my house was messed up. It was neither by work, nor would I have been the highest; nor by age, nor would I be higher than my stepsister; nor by bloodline, nor would I be the highest again as the only true blood of Draven Household. My stepmother married into the family after she and her kids lost their pack. Yet they forgot all that. The door opened downstairs—my stepmother must be back from escorting her friend home. "Donna! Get down here!!"

She then smiled shyly and left. Her gesture caught me off guard, filling me with a surge of excitement. It was a clear sign—she cared for me just as deeply as I cared for her. Perhaps dating her was the best decision; it would bring me closer to my children. For the first time in what felt like forever, the prospect of peace and happiness seemed within reach. ******* "How dare you lay your filthy hands on my son!" Stephanie, my stepmother, roared immediately as I stepped into the mansion. The mansion is just a five-minute drive from mine; it's a larger and grander version of mine.