STEP-DAD'S SECRET

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✯𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐏~𝐃𝐀𝐃'𝐒 𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐓 ✯

(𝒕𝒐𝒐 𝒘𝒓𝒐𝒏𝒈 ✿ 𝒕𝒐 𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒊𝒔𝒕)

𝑊𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑛 𝑏𝑦 𝐵𝑒𝑙𝑙𝑎𝑗𝑏14

©2025© 𝑡𝑜 𝑏𝑒𝑙𝑙𝑎𝑗𝑏14

No part of this book should be published, copied or translated or i Sue you. It's been signed under f✦ckin platforms and apps. You copy, you get sued!

⁠ CHAPTER (16) SIXTEEN

MAI'S POV

I jolted awake, my heart racing like a jackrabbit in a dark room. My scream was stifled by confusion as I took in my surroundings. I was in Caleb's living room, wrapped in a sleep bag, with Zoey and Caleb fast asleep beside me. The familiarity of the scene was a jarring contrast to the panic that still lingered in my chest.

But hadn't Roman been here? Hadn't he shown up, his presence like a dark storm cloud? I rubbed my temples, trying to shake off the haze. Had I dreamed it all? The uncertainty gnawed at me, and I knew I had to find out.

I carefully extracted myself from the sleep bag, trying not to disturb Zoey and Caleb. My eyes adjusted to the dim light, and I padded silently out of the living room, determined to search the small mansion. Maybe Roman was still here, lurking in the shadows. The thought sent a shiver down my spine.

I scoured every room, my footsteps echoing off the walls. But there was no sign of Roman. No hint of his presence. I breathed a sigh of relief, my tension easing slightly. Maybe it had all been a dream. Maybe I was just losing my grip on reality.

But before I could exhale fully, a pair of hands wrapped around my waist, pulling me back against a solid chest. I let out a strangled yelp, my heart catapulting into overdrive. Fear clawed at my throat, but a familiar scent wafted up, and a low voice whispered in my ear, "Shh, Mai. It's just me."

Roman. My fear morphed into confusion, and I spun around, my eyes locking onto his. "What...what are you doing here?" I demanded, my voice barely above a whisper. Roman's eyes gleamed with an unreadable intensity, and I felt my breath catch in my throat. This was real. Roman was real. And I had no idea what he wanted.

Roman's eyes locked onto mine, the intensity in them making my heart skip a beat. "You know exactly why I'm here, Mai," he whispered, his breath caressing my skin.

Roman’s grip was firm but not cruel as he carried me into the garden. The moonlight painted sharp shadows across his face, making his eyes look like dark promises I wasn’t sure I wanted to accept. I wanted to scream—wanted to rebel—but his words stopped me cold.

“Do you want your friends to know?” His voice was low, rough, edged with something dangerous.

I swallowed the scream that clawed at my throat and stayed silent. He set me down on the cold bench nestled within the maze’s twisting paths. The scent of damp earth and night flowers surrounded us, thick and suffocating.

Roman’s gaze never left mine, and the air between us crackled with unspoken challenges.

“You think this is a game, Mai? That you can hide behind sarcasm and defiance?” His voice softened just enough to unsettle me. “I want you. Not as a prize. Not as a conquest. As my equal, whether you like it or not.”

A cold shiver traced my spine. Was it fear? Desire? Confusion? The lines blurred under his intense stare. I met his eyes, steady for the first time, feeling a strange mix of resistance and surrender. “I’m not yours,” I whispered, but even I doubted the strength behind the words.

Roman smiled—a dark, slow curve that promised storms and fire. “You always say that but we'll see, Now bend over.”

"No," I snapped, voice trembling. "I’m not just someone you can manipulate all the time."

Roman’s expression didn’t change. Cool. Cold. "Sei mio, mettitelo nel tuo cranio (you're mine stick it into your skull)."

My breath hitched. That damn accent again. That cold entitlement.

"F•ck you and your Italian bullshit," I spat. "This is California. Speak English. In fact—leave. F•ckin leave me alone. I don’t want to see you. I don’t want to be with you. Ever."

His eyes darkened, and for a second, I thought he’d actually listen. But no. He stepped forward, voice low. "That’s not possible. I’ve already claimed you."

That word.

That god-damned stupid word.

Claimed.

I snapped. Hard.

"You—" My voice cracked. I felt the tremor ripple through my chest, through my spine. "You r***d me! Dude, you r@ped me!"

And then… nothing. The shadows fell quiet. Roman wasn’t there anymore.

"Mai?" a voice called.

I turned, wild-eyed.

Caleb.

He stood there, his face pale, eyes wide, watching me like I was unraveling right in front of him.

"Mai," he whispered again.

I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t breathe. I stumbled back, holding my head, as my knees buckled. Tears streamed down my face.

"You r@pes me," I kept muttering. "You r@ped me. You r@ped me…"

Caleb moved closer, arms out, like he wanted to help. I pushed him away, shaking.

Who had I become?

And why did Roman’s shadow still linger… when he wasn’t even there?

The air was heavy in the garden maze, scented with roses and soaked in silence. Roman had disappeared, like a shadow swallowed by the night. But his voice still echoed in my mind — possessive, cold, unyielding.

I sank onto the stone bench, knees trembling. My palms were cold, but my skin burned. I wanted to scream, but no sound came out. Instead, tears gathered in my lashes, threatening to spill.

“You’re mine... I’ve claimed you,” he’d said.

No. I wasn’t anyone’s. I only loved Caleb. I was Caleb's.

Suddenly, a familiar voice shattered my thoughts.

“Mai?”

I flinched. Caleb’s silhouette appeared at the edge of the hedges, his eyes wide with concern.

“Mai, what are you doing out here? Are you okay?” he asked, stepping closer.

My lips parted, but only a broken sob escaped.

“Mai—”

“I’m not okay!” I finally cried, standing up too fast, my vision spinning. “He... he got into my head. I let him. I thought I could control it, but I was wrong. I don’t know who I am when I’m around him.”

Caleb caught me before I could fall. “Roman?” he asked softly.

I nodded. “He doesn’t let go, Caleb. And part of me... hates that I keep letting him in.”

The tears fell freely now, no more holding back.

Caleb pulled me into a hug. This time, I let him.

“It’s not weakness to break away,” he whispered. “It’s strength."

“It’s not that easy, Caleb,” I whispered, voice shaking. “He’s everywhere... in my mind, my space, even when I try to push him away.He even r—”

Caleb’s eyes softened, full of understanding. “I know,” he said quietly.

I blinked, surprised. “Y-you know?”

He nodded slowly. “I noticed when you came to class with that swollen hip and waist. I saw how you tried to hide it, how you didn’t want to tell me. But I understood. I knew there was something wrong, something you were scared to share.”

My breath hitched, tears spilling over. “I’m so sorry... I was supposed to tell you, but I didn’t. I was scared... scared of losing you.”

Caleb shook his head, firm but gentle. “You’re not going to lose me, Mai. And I’m not going anywhere. We don’t have to carry this alone.”

I looked up at him, hope flickering inside me for the first time in a long while. “Can we... can we not keep this between us? Just for now? We could tell the police.”

“No,” I said quickly, panic rising. “Don’t tell anyone. Please, he'll kill you and them.”

Caleb nodded, a calm smile touching his lips. He reached out, stroking my hair slowly, grounding me. “I’m here. We’ll get through this together.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The warmth of the morning sun peeked through the windows, casting a gentle glow over the room. The weight of last night's emotions still lingered, but the calm atmosphere brought a sense of peace. Caleb's words echoed in my mind, "We're in this together." For the first time in a long while, I felt a glimmer of hope.

I looked around, I noticed the quiet morning scenery. The world outside seemed to be waking up, birds chirping, and a gentle breeze rustling the leaves. The peaceful ambiance was a stark contrast to the turmoil that had been brewing inside me.

Caleb's gentle touch on my hair still lingered in my memory, a comforting gesture that seemed to chase away some of the darkness. I took a deep breath, feeling a sense of resolve wash over me. Maybe today would be a new beginning.

Zoey and Caleb weren't in their sleeping bags so I decided to check the kitchen. I walked into the kitchen, the aroma of pancakes filling my senses. Zoey sat at the table, munching on cereal. Caleb stood at the stove, expertly flipping pancakes.

"You're cooking," I said, surprised.

Caleb turned, a pancake sizzling in the pan. "Yes, I'm cooking. Boys can cook too if they want to learn how."

Zoey chimed in, "My mom says boys aren't allowed to cook. She says girls are meant to learn how to cook to be good wives."

Caleb raised an eyebrow. "That's old-fashioned. Cooking is a life skill, not just a wife's duty."

I smiled, impressed by Caleb's stance. "I think Caleb's right, Zoey. Anyone can learn to cook, regardless of gender."

Zoey looked thoughtful, her eyes darting between Caleb and me. "Yeah, maybe my mom's wrong."

Caleb chuckled. "Maybe. But for now, let's enjoy these pancakes."

Zoey's expression turned stubborn. "Nope, my mom's never wrong."

Caleb smiled good-naturedly. "Everyone can be wrong sometimes, Zoey. It's okay to question and learn."

Zoey shook her head. "Not my mom. She's always right."

I intervened, trying to steer the conversation in a lighter direction. "Well, Caleb's pancakes are definitely right – they smell delicious!"

Caleb grinned, flipping another pancake. "Thanks, Mai. Want to try one?"

Zoey hopped up from her seat. "Ooh, yeah! Can I have one too?"

I took a bite of my pancake, savoring the flavor. "These are average, I can't taste the milk but still good."

Caleb chuckled, adding some fresh fruit to his plate. "Yes, ma'am chef."

I laughed, playfully teasing him. I picked up a slice of watermelon Caleb had added as a side dish and took a bite, the sweetness refreshing.

Zoey piped up, "My mom used to say if you swallow the seeds of a plant, it'll grow inside your stomach."

Caleb and I exchanged an amused glance. "That's a myth," Caleb said with a smile. "Seeds won't grow inside your stomach."

Zoey's eyes widened. "Really? My mom said it would give me a tummy ache if I swallowed the seeds."

I chuckled. "Well, maybe your mom was trying to get you to spit out the seeds."

Zoey giggled, "Maybe yes or no."

"Moms can be right," I said with a smile. "Like this one time my mom packed me an extra sweater for a trip and it got really cold."

Everyone laughed.

Caleb chimed in, "Well, before my parents left abroad for business, my mom reminded me to water my plants and I forgot. They were almost dead when she got back."

We all burst into laughter again.

Zoey joined in, "Well, my mom told me to wear sunscreen at the beach and I didn't. Now my skin is peeling."

Our laughter filled the room, and we couldn't stop.

Caleb teased, "No wonder you're always like this."

Zoey playfully shot back, "No, that's my personality."

I laughed, the humor catching me off guard. I laughed and laughed, nearly falling out of my chair. Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes as I tried to catch my breath. Caleb and Zoey joined in, our laughter infectious. The moment was pure joy, a carefree escape from life's complexities. We laughed together, savoring the lightness of the moment.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The leather belt cracked through the air before meeting skin. Roman didn’t flinch. He’d learned not to. Weakness only prolonged it.

"Men don’t cry. Men *don’t* fail," his father's voice thundered across the cold room, each word cutting sharper than the belt itself.

Roman's back stung, but not as much as his pride. He had missed a target at the range. One shot off. One mistake. That’s all it took for his father to strip him of dinner, dignity, and warmth.

The lashes weren’t just punishment. They were a lesson in control. In silence. In being man.

But deep inside, Roman knew it wasn’t strength that held him still—it was survival. That night, like many others, he stared at the ceiling, eyes wide, lips tight, breathing steady. Rage simmered, quiet but present. It built walls inside him, brick by brick.

Years later…

Roman stood in his penthouse, rain sliding down the glass walls like memories he couldn't wipe clean. A glass of scotch burned his throat. He didn’t even like the taste.

His knuckles tightened. He still heard the voice: Men don’t cry. Men don’t fail. The sting of leather still echoed across his skin long after the belt had dropped to the floor.

Roman sat on the edge of the cold marble floor in his father’s study—his shirt ripped, his back striped red from the welts. His breathing was shallow, but his face stayed cold, blank. It had to. Any flicker of weakness, any tear, and his father would return.

"You’re not a man if you let people see you bleed,” his father had said. “Men don’t feel.”

Roman had grown up swallowing his pain whole.

But lately, the dam was cracking.

It wasn’t just the ghosts of his childhood or the power he’d accumulated as armor—it was her. Mai.

He didn’t know when she started mattering. Maybe when she looked at him and didn’t flinch. Or when she pushed him, shouted, said no. She wasn’t afraid of his storms. Or maybe she was—but she still stood.

Roman leaned his head back, eyes closing.

He had tried to own her, control her, like everything else in his world. But she wasn’t something to own. She was real. And in trying to possess her, he’d broken the one thing he hadn’t realized he needed most—her trust.

The leather belt no longer stung in memory, but the words did. “You’ll never be a man if you cry,” his father had barked, eyes hollow, face twisted with the grief he never named but always wore. Roman never shed a tear, not even at his mother’s funeral. He learned to keep his pain hidden, locked tight behind the cold mask of power and control.

Years later, Roman stood alone in the grand estate his family left behind. The silence didn’t hurt anymore—but it didn’t comfort either. He had everything. Wealth. Control. Fear. But not peace.

Then came Mai.

She challenged the silence. Her presence scratched at the armor he wore. She screamed when others whispered. She fought when others obeyed. And when she cried, something inside him cracked. He even killed her mother.

He remembered her trembling hands, her eyes swollen from tears she tried to hide. Her pain wasn’t foreign—it was familiar.

He was starting to see it.

They were both broken in different ways, carrying wounds they didn’t ask for. But maybe, just maybe, they didn’t have to heal alone.

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