Stepmother Cast Novels & Stories

He turned to her and his voice was deadly calm, “I’m afraid you misunderstood. You did not find her. My men did.” My stepmother’s smile faltered. “You can’t be serious! I kept her! I fed her! I looked after her! You owe me that money!” Dacre arched an eyebrow and he put his hands in his pockets as if he were bored. “You will watch your tone,” he said slowly. My stepmother ignored the warning. She took another step towards Dacre until they were almost nose to nose and she was spitting when she spoke. “You can’t just take her! I was about to bring her to you! I deserve–”

From her perch on the sofa, the Moreaux matriarch sagged slightly before offering a tight nod. "Your choice to make." "Mother!" Tema's shriek cut through the room like shattered glass. She whirled toward the Moreaux matriarch, her designer gown swirling dramatically. "How can you just stand by while he makes this kind of mistake?" Her venomous gaze snapped to me. "That scheming little bitch must have bewitched him in there!" The elderly woman merely sighed, smoothing her skirt. "Enough, Tema." Her quiet authority carried more weight than her daughter-in-law's hysterics.

“We just have to wait until she renews the rent like she promised. Then we can finally expose her secrets.” Their words stabbed into my chest, but I kept moving. The moment they noticed me, their scornful looks flipped into warm, welcoming smiles that made my stomach twist painfully. “Oh, my poor baby girl,” Stepmother cried, pulling me into her arms. The warmth felt wrong, hollow, suffocating and I pulled away with an awkward smile I didn’t mean to give. “My mum has been so worried about you and your mum Clair,” Abigail added. “She could barely eat.”

“You never liked her. You never respected her. And now you want to humiliate her at your son’s engagement? After everything?” “She’s not family anymore—” “She’s still the mother of your grandson,” my stepmother said sharply. “And she’s still more graceful than you’ll ever be.” “Mom,” I said softly, reaching out to stop her, but she wouldn’t back down. “No, Haley. I’m not going to stand by and let this woman insult you.” Before Catherine could respond, Sebastian rushed over. “What’s going on?” he asked, his eyes darting between all of us. “She insulted Haley,” my stepmother said.

In the end, she was forced to agree. Seeing the ninth stepmother's reaction, Luna Sandra already had a good idea of what had happened. There was a flash of fire in her eyes, and her attempt to maintain a warm, friendly facade vanished. She coldly said, "Senior Master cherished you deeply. How could you do something like this?" Luna Sandra's scolding carried an icy chill, her face displaying a cunningly malicious expression. Luna Sandra's tone was stern, accusing the ninth stepmother. The ninth stepmother lifted her head, her expression at a loss. She didn't know what to say. "Madam, I don't know what you're talking about."

I just feel like I have been pushed to the edge countless times. My stepmother. My stepsister. And now officially, Weston’s mother.

“Did you miss me?” Her auburn hair darkens. Her face shifts, aging slightly. And suddenly I’m staring at my stepmother—the woman who died when Alistair attacked our pack. Except she’s not dead. She’s very, very alive. And she’s a witch. “No,” I breathe, my legs going weak. “No, this can’t…” “I’ve been playing you all like puppets,” Kate, my stepmother, continues, her voice dripping with satisfaction. “Orchestrating every tragedy, every betrayal, every death.”

And by the way… you can call me mom from now on, my dear. ''Really?'' I focused my cold gaze to her with a raised brow, the corner of my mouth curved into a smirk. ‘‘Are you sure, mommy?’’ ‘‘Of course, sweetheart!’’ she said, hurrying forward and grabbed my hand. ‘‘We are family, Celestine... Although I’m your stepmother, I can treat you like my own daughter just like how I am treating your sister…’’ What's her drama this time? I couldn't help but chuckle as I wrenched my hand away from her grip. ‘‘I apologize, but I don’t need another mother. I only have one mother and her name is Sandra…’’

“Crooked nose?” “You did not see it?” she asked. “It bends to the left like it is tired of standing straight.” Despite how tired I was, I let out a small breath that could have been a laugh. Then I took the cup of water from her tray. “My stepmother is here,” I said quietly. Paula froze. “Here?” “Yes.” She lowered her voice immediately. “With your stepsister too?” “Yes.” She pressed her lips together. “They went to the Queen Mother first,” I added.

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.