My Stepmom Mistreated Me Brutally, Assuming I Was The Paramour Mga Nobela at Kwento

"My dad couldn't stand the sight of me after my mom died. I reminded him of her too much. He married my stepmother just to escape raising me. But he never loved her. Their marriage was a sham, and she resented me for it." Sasha's eyes widened in concern, sensing the pain behind his words. "What do you mean?" Ethan's expression darkened, memories he had long tried to forget resurfacing. "She hated me, Sasha. My stepmother was cruel in ways I can't even describe. She blamed my mother for everything wrong in her life and took it all out on me." He paused, the words catching in his throat, but he forced himself to continue. "She would chain my hands and legs, lock me in a cage, and feed me raw c

We were just two kids forced into a twisted little family. My stepfather, Lucas, was nothing but a monster. A manipulative, sadistic asshole. He ran a pathetic doughnut shop on the east end of town and pretended like he was Father of the Year. Sometimes I wonder why Mum didn't see through all his facade before it was too late. He was a deceiver. And Mum was way too trusting and soft-hearted. That's how she fell for a man like him. While Mum would be away, working double shifts to settle bills and keep the family alive, Luca would take short breaks from his rundown shop, just to come and molest me when I was alone in the house.

It left a streak across the glass. "Care to comment? Born into wealth, your troubled relationship with your stepmother warped you into a violent personality. Throughout middle and high school, as the ringleader of a bullying group, you systematically tormented your stepsister—burning her, verbally humiliating her—until she dropped out and developed PTSD. Is that correct?" "You've been accused of poisoning your stepsister's water during her first shift, causing her to become an Omega. Is that true?" "Spreading false rumors about your stepmother, hiring border rogues to harass your stepsister..."

I found them sprawled on the sofa, laughing as if the world was theirs. The woman was draped over him, her lipstick smeared across his mouth, her heels digging into the couch cushions. “What the hell do you think you are doing?” I snapped, as soon as I got down the stairs. They both turned to look at me like I was an annoying bug. "Who I am doesn’t concern you," the woman said with a cruel smile. "But since you asked... I'm your stepmom,” she paused, exchanging glances with my stepfather. Her words hit me harder than any slap.

Had I wanted someone else to know what it felt like to be in pain? The thought made me sick. “I just…I didn’t hear her, I swear. I wasn’t ignoring her .” “Liar!” she screamed, stomping her foot. “You always act like you’re the victim! You hate me, and now you want to make me look bad in front of Mom!” My stepmom's hand moved faster than I thought, connecting with my cheek in a sharp crack that sent my head snapping to the side. Stars exploded behind my eyelids. The taste of blood flooded my mouth.

she shouted. "Point of correction, you are Penelope Brown, my father's wife. Have you ever loved my father?" I asked but all I got was silence. " I have always known that you got married to him because of his money. I know people like you, that's why you've always been imposing Chloe on me. You are nothing but my stepmother, you can never replace my mother. I have tried all these years to give you the respect as my father's wife, but here you are calling yourself my mom? Look at you, are you fit to be my mom? You ain't my mom, but a stepmom. I'm just making things clear to you. You would always remain my stepmother, that's who you are. If you say one more bad word against Emily, I wouldn't

She stylishly held his hand and scolded him for hitting me “Dear husband, Are you still using violence? I thought we spoke about this before now." I felt like vomiting at the display. Her words couldn't sway anyone. My stepmother was my mom’s half sister, who lied against her and had her chased out of the house. Chasing her mom out of the house was not enough; she wanted her out too. My stepmother approached me and said, “Jane, I know you want the best for this family.” I flinch as her hands pat me softly at the back. “The young master is our ticket to permanent freedom from lack, or don’t you want us to live a normal life like we did before? I was furious; I was suddenly getting exchanged f

This was something couples should be doing—not stepsiblings. The worst thing was... it didn't feel bad. The smell and the warmth of his body comforted her, despite the odd situation. She could feel his strength and it made her feel the opposite of scared. He held her there for a moment before the first hit landed. It stung, even through her clothes. When he hit her again, it hurt more, as the bruises accumulated on her soft flesh. By the seventh or eighth one—she had lost count—the pain got to be unbearable.

"That asshole rejected and shamed me at the altar, calling me a sex maniac, which is a lie! I am nothing like that. They all made me the monster I am!" "Made you? What do you mean?" Diego asked, looking serious. I told him about my stepmother and how I overheard her conversation with my stepsister and ex-mate. "She spiked a strange drug into my body without my knowledge and I began to crave for anything sex." Diego's hand suddenly pulled away from my shoulder. It felt like his body got shocked, forcing him to draw. His reaction made me wonder if he was stunned by what my own family did to me or because I'm a freak.

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.