Step Daughter Stories Novels & Stories

I said. “Doesn't it the same baby who helps you to cage Rose with you?” Stephen asked seems interesting in my life drama. “Yes…” I leaned back on the sofa, closing my eyes. “So tell her his father is asking for him. Give that baby to his father and solve this person's mystery” Steph suggested. “And you think I didn't think about that” I snapped. “Sorry…” He kept himself quiet. “I don't know what attachment she has with that baby, She was ready for the third section for him after knowing what happened in the third section,” I said, breaking the silence.

Bradley clenched his teeth and warned sternly, "How dare you say that?" "I dare! I absolutely dare!" Felix's face twisted into a pitiful expression as if he could burst into tears any moment. "Once you marry her, you'll have your own kids. And if my stepmother bullies me, you'll probably say it's my fault!" Chuckling with a hint of frustration, Bradley asked,, "What kind of nonsense have you been reading?" "My friend told me his Daddy did the same thing! And the storybooks say that when you get a stepmom, you'll get a stepdad too!"

I gave her a sad smile of gratitude as she proceeded to clip my hair on top of my head and comb and cut the length that was left down. Steph was super chatty as she snipped away at my dark locks. Once she got talking, there was no stopping her. So much like Mom, I thought again. I discovered she had four kids: one boy and three girls. Her eldest child was named Briar, and she was twenty-five and had just obtained a degree in interior design. She was currently touring Canada and, by the sounds of it, trying to find a boyfriend. Her second daughter, and second youngest was Sophie, who was my age, and studying journalism at Kempthorne University. Her youngest girl, Laurel, was seventeen and in

My own family, well they chased me out. I come from a very rich and popular family, but I am the stepdaughter. My father, Damien Hilary, married a witch since my mother died and all we've ever done is fight. Rosa always hated me, she would try to maltreat me and I would always retaliate. My father never believes me, just like all those stepmother stories I've read before. I never thought it would happen to me in real life. Since I always fight my stepmother and step-sister, Emma, they told me to get out when I turned eighteen two years ago. On my birthday actually. They told me it was high time I got out and looked for a job. I had to use my savings to find this apartment.

"I just walked in to find you face-fucking my stepdaughter. Explain yourself." "Watch your tone. I'm still your older brother and I'll still belt you across the mouth when necessary." Cain's cold warning jolts me, but I still scoot closer, pressing my face against the backs of his legs. "I didn't know who she was." My stepfather shoves a hand through his perfectly styled hair and laughs. "You expect me to believe that? Jesus, man. She's barely out of high school." Cain curses. "She's legal, though?"

We are not even having counseling today, I fucking lied. I just turned fifteen when one of Dad’s ex-wife was murdered the very next day after she arrived; She made an attempt to escape and succeeded making it out of our compound. But as she tried to cross the road, a white truck came speeding in her direction. It was no accident, the driver was sent by my Dad. In fact I personally know the driver. He’s still walking around in my home. Since that day I decided to ignore, not get attached, and keep my distance from anyone he brought in as a new stepmom.

I just walked past him and into the sitting room, slamming the door behind me. Inside, I tried to breathe. The room was too quiet, too clean. I turned on the TV, hoping to lose myself in a movie. Maybe if I watched something light, I could forget where I was. Who I was with. But peace didn’t last. A few minutes later, the door creaked open, and his son walked in like he owned the place. His shoulders were relaxed, but the smirk on his face made me sit up straighter. “Stepmom,” he said, dragging out the word like it was poison. “What’s it like, marrying someone old enough to be your father? Let me guess—it’s all about the money, right?”

The pain in my wrist was already subsiding, fading into a dull ache, but I couldn’t shake the unease that lingered. “That?” the girl said, nodding toward my wrist. I followed her gaze and saw it. The mark was back. The faint red glow was unmistakable, like embers against my skin. I quickly tugged my sleeve down, hiding it from view. “It’s nothing,” I said hastily, my voice sharper than I intended. I didn’t want her or anyone to think I was a freak. But the look in her eyes told me she didn’t believe me. The lecturer cleared his throat loudly, snapping everyone’s attention back to him. “Order, please,” he said, his tone stern. “Now, where were we? Ah, yes. Everyone, please welcome Miss Stepha

He asked. I thought back to how extremely entitled they had sounded and slowly shook my head. They were douchebags like their daughter. "Now imagine them as inlaws," He told me. "Eew, yucky," I said in false and playful disgust. "She told her Parents everything, and could not even keep a secret. I found it difficult to to tell her things in confidence," Stephan recalled. "She was not her own person," I quoted him when I realized what he finally meant. I shook my head.

Delilah gazed at Stephen, her eyes filled with curiosity. Delilah: "Why don't I know about your stepbrother?" Stephen sighed, reminiscing. Stephen: "He was a few years older than me, and when he left, you were hardly a year old, I guess." Delilah: "But why did he leave? Why did your father treat him as the maid's son then?" Stephen's expression shifted, revealing the complexity of the family history.