In Love with my Stepfather

Chapter 7 — Dinner

May’s POV

The mansion stood just as I remembered it. I stepped through the arched double doors, clutching my coat in one hand as my eyes swept across the polished hardwood floors and the grand staircase.

There were no maids bustling around, no background chatter—just the faint hum of the heating system and the soft click of my heels.

Then Lauren appeared from the hallway, dressed in a soft blue blouse and slacks, her hair pulled back in a neat twist. She smiled—warmly, but with a nervous undertone. “You’re here.”

“Yes,” I replied, my voice even.

We stood there awkwardly for a moment before she moved in for a hug. It was light, cautious, like she wasn’t sure if I’d let her. I tolerated it, stiff and polite.

“You look beautiful,” she said as she stepped back, her eyes tracing over my face. “Come on in. I just finished setting the table.”

I followed her into the large dining room.

“Where is everyone?” I asked, glancing around.

She smiled over her shoulder. “Ah, the maids. I let them go. It’s been over a year now.”

I frowned. “Why?”

She shrugged, a small, shy smile on her lips. “I just wanted some peace. I handle the house myself now. It’s more… grounding.”

I didn’t say anything, but I know my face said it all. I couldn’t get used to this version of her. She disappeared into the kitchen and came back a moment later with a tray of roasted chicken, buttery mashed potatoes, and grilled asparagus—my favorites.

She had just set the dishes down when the sound of footsteps echoed down the stairs.

Carlos.

He strolled in wearing a casual gray lounge set, damp curls clinging to his forehead like he’d just stepped out of the shower. There was an ease about him that made my skin prickle. Our eyes met—briefly, coolly—before I looked away, my expression tight and my lips curling in disgust.

“Good evening,” he said quietly, sliding into the head seat at the table, completely unbothered.

I didn’t respond.

He had taken my father’s seat.

I didn’t say a word, but the heat in my stare could’ve scorched the fabric of that chair. Carlos didn’t notice—or pretended not to. He simply unfolded his napkin and got comfortable, like he belonged here.

Lauren took her place beside him and began serving with a warm smile.

“I made all your favorites,” she said as she carefully filled my plate.

I picked up my fork. “Thanks.”

Her smile faltered. She could hear it—that distant politeness in my voice.

We ate in silence for a while. She kept stealing glances at me, and Carlos ate like he was the only one in the room.

Halfway through the meal, she spoke again. “I saw your graduation pictures.”

I looked up.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t be there,” she continued gently. “We were in Miami for a summit at the time. I—I wanted to come.”

“I got your gift,” I said slowly.

Her eyes softened. “I’m glad.”

She hesitated, then added, “I was thinking… now that you’re back, maybe you’d consider joining the company.”

A faint smirk tugged at the corner of my mouth. “Did your husband not tell you? I already work at Zenith Corporation.”

Her eyes dimmed slightly. “Yes… but I just thought… maybe you’d want to come back. To the family business. You’re going to inherit it one day, May. It makes sense to start easing into that now.”

I lifted my brows, amused. “I don’t think your husband would be cool with that.”

Then I turned my gaze to Carlos. “Am I right, stepfather?”

The word landed like a slap. He raised his head and looked at me, saying nothing. Just stared, amusement flickering in his eyes, then calmly wiped his mouth and reached for his glass.

Lauren let out a nervous laugh. “Of course he will. As a matter of fact, he’s going to be a great help to you in the future. Carlos has been incredible at the company. You should see the way he handles things—always strategic, decisive, calm. I don’t know what I would’ve done without him. The board respects—”

I set my fork down with a sharp clink. “Is this why you invited me? To serenade me with praises about your amazing, gold-digging husband?”

Silence.

Lauren froze, glancing anxiously at Carlos.

I leaned back, arms folded. “Must be nice. To give up everything and play house for someone who wasn’t even in your orbit three years ago.”

“May, that’s not fair,” she said quickly. “He’s been good to me—”

“Oh, I’m sure he has.” I flicked my eyes toward him. “Leeches usually are, until they drain you dry.”

Carlos didn’t flinch. He calmly cut another piece of lamb and chewed. “Tastes good,” he said to her, like I hadn’t spoken at all.

His calmness irritated me more than any insult could have. I felt like I had thrown a punch that landed in fog.

Lauren gave him an apologetic look, but he didn’t even blink.

No one spoke for the rest of dinner.

Forks scraped plates. Glasses clinked. Lauren tried twice to start small talk, but I ignored her. Carlos remained silent.

When I finally set my napkin down, my plate mostly untouched, I pushed my chair back and stood.

“Thanks for dinner,” I said, not looking at either of them.

I grabbed my coat from the back of the chair and started toward the door.

“May, wait—” Lauren stood quickly.

I paused but didn’t turn.

She came closer, hands clasped. “Why don’t you stay the night?” Her voice was softer now. “I’ve kept your room just the way it was. I always hoped you’d come back someday.”

I hesitated. I searched her eyes, trying to find some hidden manipulation. But all I saw was sincerity. Maybe even longing.

I found myself giving her a small nod.

Upstairs, I pushed open the door to my old room. The scent of lavender hit me immediately. Everything was the same—the bed, the shelves, the photographs on the nightstand. It looked like time had stopped.

I walked to the dresser and picked up a familiar frame. A photo of me and Dad on my twentieth birthday. He had his arm around me, and I was grinning wide.

My chest tightened.

I sat on the bed, running my thumb across the glass. “Mum’s changed, Dad,” I whispered. “You wouldn’t believe it. She’s practically a housewife now. She loves him—Carlos.” My voice cracked.

“She never looked at you like that,” I added quietly.

I lay down, still clutching the frame to my chest. My eyes stared at the ceiling, but my mind stayed behind—trapped somewhere between what was and what is.

Eventually, sleep came. The frame remained tight in my grip.