Novelas y relatos de My Stepmother

She nurtured me like I was her own. My stepmother's cruelty was quiet but relentless — whispers behind my back, glances full of disdain, and the constant comparison to her own daughters, the ones she bore under my father's roof. I was ignored, excluded, punished without reason, and made to feel that every breath I drew was an offense.

“Delete it and block the number. I’ll handle this.” “Handle it how?” I snapped, voice cracking like the anxious teenager I apparently still was. “We can’t just ignore this. What if they send it to your dad? Or post it somewhere? My mom would lose her mind. ‘Oh honey, you’re screwing your stepbrother?’”

But before I can step out, Theo turns to me, the look of concern still etched on his face. “Your stepmother is here,” he says. My eyebrows lift immediately. My stepmother? That witch. She must’ve heard from my father that I’m handling the major negotiation today. And being the hater she is, I’m sure she’s here to sabotage it—like always. I don’t want to get out. I want to stay in the car, lock the doors, and wait for the suppressant to kick in properly. But that’s not an option. Not when I’ve clawed my way into being taken seriously in this godforsaken company.

“There must be something wrong with you.” “It’s not as wonderful as it sounds,” Stephanie replied looking down. “On my twentieth birthday, after a long and painful illness, my mother died. A few months later, my father informed me that he decided to get married again. His second wife had been his mistress for years. She wanted to become a Collins at all costs. This woman had a son, from another man, someone she knew before she met my father. So, I’ve found myself living under the same roof with a stepmother and an older step-brother. Everything went pretty well, until one night when he... he entered my room and…”

his secretary’s squeaky voice stammered through the intercom. “What?” he growled. “Uh…your mother called.” “STEP-mother,” he corrected her, rubbing at his temple again. His stepmother, a thirty-year-old actress wannabe was a gold-digging whore who only married his father for the sake of money. And she was close to making her dream come true. His father went senile a year after they got married and she’d somehow manipulated his old man to change his will. If he didn’t act sooner, his family legacy and Winters Architecture, the country’s biggest and most influential architectural firm would fall into the hands of an airhead.

“I have tried to show him I could be his mom if he would just give me the chance, but he refuses and rebels against everything that I do for him.” “You're not his mom,” I pointed out, discomfort pooling inside my stomach as I stared at her, lost for words. She is here trying to be a mom to a boy that she doesn't want her around him or his father, but she left her infant, her blood child, behind years ago. “I know I am not, but I could still love him like I was,” she replied. “You are his stepmother. Try remembering that when dealing with him. Let him realize you won't ever replace his mother. Maybe that would be a start,” I shrugged.

"Mom... I mean, stepmother... you... you want me to do the dishes? Clean the house?" My stepmother's eyes softened, a hint of vulnerability seeping through her facade. "Yes, Bethany. I think it's time for a change. We all need to do our part to keep our home running smoothly. You can start by helping out with the chores." Bethany's disbelief was mirrored in my own expression. Our stepmother had never shown an ounce of interest in household responsibilities, leaving the burden on our shoulders. It felt like an alternate reality, a dream that bordered on surreal.

I cradled my head in my arms and cried out, "No, I am sorry… So sorry… Please stop…" The intense pain put me in a trance, and my vision began to blur. "Father…please stop…" "You'll kill her." My stepmother's voice sounded like it was coming from a very far away place. "Harland... Sweetie, remember… That pretty face and voice of hers is her biggest asset. We don't want to ruin things, do we?" My stepmother Isis. I used to be happy that my father found someone after my mother died, and she seemed to make him happy. I used to wish I could make her happy, too. I had naively hoped that, one day, things might get better between us.

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. “What pack was your mother in and why was she banished? Why are you a rogue?” He asked, tilting his head sideways as he waited for a reply “Gravity coast pack and she was exiled because the pack alpha found out she was expecting me and my father was Willam. As far as I know, William and the pack alpha had a misunderstanding but when he found out one of their own was expecting a child with Williams he exiled her. My mom did try to find William but he rejected her and left her to cater for me. I grew up with her in the south but she died some years later, leaving me to fend for myself. I tried reaching out to William after her death but he didn’t change his

I've heard them all before. The only reason I'm going along with this is that the alternative is to get locked up in a facility. I've been there before, and it.... isn't the best of places. "Ok. Fifteen minutes." My stepmother's lips prune up like she has swallowed a lemon, and with a quick, hateful glance, she steps outside. "On the bright side..." Joan begins. I immediately cut her off. "Joan, I love you, but if you mention a bright side to this whole thing one more time, I might just set the place on fire."