STEP-DAD'S SECRET

17|

✯𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐏~𝐃𝐀𝐃'𝐒 𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐓 ✯

(𝒕𝒐𝒐 𝒘𝒓𝒐𝒏𝒈 ✿ 𝒕𝒐 𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒊𝒔𝒕)

𝑊𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑛 𝑏𝑦 𝐵𝑒𝑙𝑙𝑎𝑗𝑏14

©2025© 𝑡𝑜 𝑏𝑒𝑙𝑙𝑎𝑗𝑏14

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⁠ CHAPTER (17) SEVENTEEN

MAI'S POV

I stepped out of the taxi and onto the driveway of Roman's mansion. I pulled out my phone and dialed Roman's number, but it went straight to voicemail. His number had magically been saved on my phone without my notice but I know roman must have put it there. I tried again, but still no response.

The guards at the entrance nodded in recognition, and one of them opened the door for me. I walked into the foyer, calling out, "Roman? Hello?"

No response.

The mansion seemed quiet, too quiet. I walked further in, my footsteps echoing off the high ceilings. I checked the living room, the dining room, but they were all empty. I headed up the stairs, my heart beating faster with every step. I checked Roman's room, but it was empty.

Then, I heard it. A low, muffled sound, like someone in pain. My skin crawled. Who could be in the mansion?

The sound was coming from the room at the end of the hall. I walked towards it, my senses on high alert.

The sound grew louder, and I realized it sounded like someone was being whipped. I felt a jolt of fear. What was going on?

I reached the door and tried the handle, but it wouldn't budge. It was locked. I rattled the handle, trying to get someone's attention, but the sound continued uninterrupted. I pressed my ear to the door, trying to listen more closely. The sound was definitely coming from the other side. I felt a chill run down my spine. What was happening behind that door?

I pounded on the door, my voice firm. "Open up!"

The sounds of whipping stopped, and for a moment, there was silence. Then Roman's voice spoke from the other side of the door, his tone pale with weakness but still cold and hard. "Leave, Mai."

I frowned, pressing my ear closer to the door. "Are you okay? Who's being whipped?" I demanded.

Roman's voice remained detached, his words dripping with an icy calm. "It's none of your business."

I rolled my eyes, frustration boiling over. "Fine," I said, turning to leave. I took a step back, and the whips resumed their rhythmic crack, the sound sending a shiver down my spine.

I hesitated for a moment, wondering if I should push the issue. Roman's tone had been clear - he didn't want me involved. I turned and walked away, the sound of the whips growing fainter. The image of Roman's pale, cold voice lingered in my mind, leaving me with more questions than answers. The whipping finally stopped, but the silence that followed was short-lived. A new sound emerged, a low grunting noise, like someone clenching their teeth in pain or rage. I felt a shiver run down my spine, my mind recoiling from the sound.

I didn't want to care. It wasn't my problem. But something about the sound got under my skin, stirring up old memories and emotions. I felt myself becoming overwhelmed, my heart racing.

I ran to the bathroom and locked myself in, covering my ears. The sound was muffled, but I could still feel its presence, a dark shadow looming outside.

Memories flooded back. I remembered sleeping in the toilet while my parents argued downstairs. The sound of their shouting and slamming doors was a distant hum. I felt like I was back in that place, reliving the fear and uncertainty. My exhaustion caught up with me, and I slid down to the floor, my back against the door. I closed my eyes, and before I knew it, I had drifted off to sleep. The sound of grunting and teeth-clenching faded into the background of my subconscious.

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

Roman's father, Virgo, stood tall, his eyes fixed on Roman's battered form. The whip cracked through the air, striking Roman's back with precision. Roman's teeth gritted, his body tensing with each blow.

Virgo's face was a mask of anger and disappointment. "You're weak, Roman," he sneered. "You let your emotions control you. A true leader doesn't show vulnerability."

Roman's eyes flashed with defiance, but he knew better than to speak out. He endured the punishment, his mind racing with hatred and resentment towards his father.

The whipping stopped, and Roman's breathing became labored. Virgo stepped closer, his voice cold. "You're not fit to lead our family, Roman. You're a disappointment."

Roman's jaw clenched, his fists balled. He knew he had to keep his temper in check, or the punishment would continue.

As Virgo turned to leave, Roman's eyes met his, a spark of defiance flickering in their depths. But he said nothing, knowing that any outburst would only fuel his father's anger.

The door opened, and Virgo's associate entered, concern etched on his face. "Sir, perhaps you've made your point. Roman understands the consequences."

Virgo's expression didn't change, but he nodded curtly. "Very well."

The associate stepped forward, helping Roman to his feet. Roman's eyes never left Virgo's, the hatred and resentment burning brighter with each passing moment.

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

I slowly came to, realizing I'd passed out on the bathroom floor. I rubbed my eyes, trying to shake off the drowsiness. I didn't remember falling asleep, but I must have been more exhausted than I thought.

I got up, left the bathroom while smoothing out my clothes, and peeped through the door. My heart skipped a beat as I saw Roman trying to walk shirtless, his back a mess of injuries. I felt a wave of fear wash over me. What had happened?

I rushed out of my room and to Roman's side, my eyes fixed on his battered back. Roman turned to see me, his expression a mix of surprise and wariness. I didn't have words; I just quickly opened the door to his room and gestured for him to come in.

I didn't have time to admire his room, although it was my first time entering. The decor was sleek and modern, but my focus was on Roman. I rushed to help him, but he pushed me away, his eyes flashing with a warning. He made his way to the bed by himself, his movements stiff and painful.

I was taken aback for a moment, but then I quickly sprang into action. I grabbed the first aid box from the shelf and approached him cautiously. Roman looked up at me, his eyes still wary, but I could see the pain and exhaustion etched on his face. I opened the box and began to rummage through it, trying to find the right supplies to tend to his wounds.

"No, I can do it myself," Roman said, his voice firm but strained.

"I'll do it," I insisted, trying to take control.

"No, there's no need. Just go back to your room," Roman said, his eyes flashing with annoyance.

"No, you're bleeding. You can't cover this up yourself," I argued, holding out the first aid kit.

"I can. Just leave it. It's none of your business," Roman said, his voice cold.

"Stop acting like you know everything and can handle everything. Just let me do it," I said, frustration creeping into my voice.

"No, I don't need your help," Roman repeated, his jaw clenched.

"You'll lose more blood if you fight me," I warned, trying to reason with him.

"I don't need your help, Mai," Roman said, his voice strained.

The pillow touched his injured back, and he winced in pain. I could see the effort it took him to keep his composure.

"Mr., you need help. My help. Let me help you and shut up," I said firmly, trying to brook no argument.

Roman's eyes drifted away, focusing on a portrait of a woman on the wall. I recognized the look of detachment, the way he was trying to escape the pain and the moment.

I took advantage of his distraction to gently begin cleaning his injuries. Roman's body tensed, but he didn't protest further.

"It looks deep," I murmured, examining the wounds. "And I see more scars here that are reopened. Were you...?" I trailed off, unsure how to finish the question.

Roman's gaze remained fixed on the portrait, his expression unreadable. "It's none of your business," he said, his voice flat and unyielding.

"You're too independent, in case you didn't know," I said, trying to lighten the mood.

Roman didn't respond, but his breathing quickened, and his eyes flashed with irritation.

"Why are you always like this to me, jerk?" I asked, my voice rising.

"It's Roman," he corrected, his voice low and even.

"I know," I said, my eyes locked on his. "Why are you like this? And don't you say it's none of my business because it is."

Roman's expression remained impassive. "You don't need to know," he said, his voice firm.

"Are you in pain?" I asked, my voice softer.

"I don't feel pain," Roman lied, his eyes betraying nothing.

"Oh yeah? What's this?" I said, gently pressing a cotton swab to his exposed flesh.

Roman flinched, biting his lip to stifle a cry. "Aren't you a doctor?" he asked, his voice strained.

"I'm a lady who's supposed to know these things," I replied, a hint of sarcasm in my voice.

Roman raised an eyebrow. "Who told you that?"

"My father did, when he wasn't...what he wasn't," I said, my voice tinged with bitterness.

Roman's eyes narrowed. "Explain."

"It's none of your business," I said, throwing his own words back at him.

Roman's gaze lingered on mine, but I refused to back down. "I don't even care," Roman said, his voice dismissive.

"I also don't care, but," I said, pausing to finish wrapping his injuries.

"Just finish what you started," Roman said, his tone curt.

I finished dressing his wounds, my hands moving efficiently. "Maybe by tomorrow it'll heal a little, but they'll leave scars," I said, examining my handiwork.

Roman's expression didn't change. "I know. Why are you telling me?"

"I thought," I began, but Roman cut me off.

"I'm not a girl or kid, Mai. I'm a man, and I don't need anyone's help," he said, his voice firm.

"Lies. People need help sometimes. You're just too proud to accept it," I countered, my eyes locked on his.

"I'm a man. I don't need anyone's help," Roman repeated, his jaw clenched.

"But you needed my help to clean your wounds," I pointed out, a hint of amusement in my voice.

"You decided it yourself. I didn't ask for help, kid," Roman said, his tone condescending.

"I'm not a kid. And why are you so full of yourself? What do you mean, you're a man?" I asked, my curiosity piqued.

Roman's gaze turned cold. "Women are distractions," he said, his voice dripping with disdain.

"No, we're not," I said, my voice firm, meeting his gaze head-on.

The silence was heavy, like the air before a storm.

“You should rest,” I said, eyes avoiding his. His gaze burned anyway.

“You’re quiet,” he replied.

“I just don’t feel like arguing.”

“Is that what we always do?” he asked.

I scoffed softly. “You make it easy.”

He shifted slightly, wincing but managing a small smile. “You finished lecturing me about equality, or is there more?”

I looked at him, hard. “You still think men matter more?”

Roman met my eyes. “I think women distract men from their purpose.”

I laughed dryly. “Funny. I think men fear what women could be if we stopped letting them tell us what we are.”

His eyes narrowed. “You think you’re stronger than me?”

“I think I’m stronger than you know.”

He sat up slightly, his voice lower. “I think you’re dangerous, Mai.”

“Because I see through you?”

“Because you make me want to feel.” His voice was raw, honest for once.

I didn’t answer.

He leaned closer, despite the pain. “You think strength is silence and pain. But real strength is staying when it’s easier to run.”

I stood up, heart pounding. His words hung in the air, a challenge and a question all at once. I looked down at him, our eyes locking in a moment of raw intensity. For a moment, I forgot to breathe. Forgot to think. All I could do was feel – the weight of his gaze, the thrum of my heart, the echo of his words. Maybe it was the truth in his eyes, or maybe it was the exhaustion of always running, but something inside me shifted. I took a step closer, and then another, my feet moving of their own accord. "What makes you think I'd stay?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

I met Roman's gaze, and for a moment, I felt like he could see right through me. "Because I know my Mai.......sings for me," he said, his voice low and husky.

I raised an eyebrow, feeling a flutter in my chest. "I..."

Roman's eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled. "I've heard you hum, you listen to music. Sing for me, darling. Don't worry, I don't bite."

My cheeks warmed, but there was something about his tone that made me want to give in. "But," I said softly.

Roman's face lit up with a smile. "I'll change my description of women."

I hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "Alright." I took a deep breath and began to sing a soft, soothing lullaby that my dad used to sing to me when I was little:

"Dreams of moonlight, gentle and bright

Dance upon your face, a peaceful night

In the silence, I hear your heart

A love so pure, we'll never be apart

In the stars up high, I see your smile

A guiding light, that shines for a while

Sleep tight, my love, may your rest be deep

May your heart stay gentle, your soul keep

The world outside may be loud and wide

But in my arms, you'll always reside

Safe and sound, where love will stay

Forever and always, come what may"

As I sang, Roman's eyes closed, and his face relaxed into a peaceful expression. When I finished, he opened his eyes, and they shone with warmth. "Beautiful," he whispered. "You have a gift." I felt a warmth spread through my chest at his words, and for a moment, I forgot to be guarded around him.

Roman's eyes sparkled with amusement as he said, "You'll sing for me, and only me, Mai. That voice is mine."

I rolled my eyes, trying to play it cool despite the flutter in my chest. "Can I eat at least?" I asked, trying to change the subject.

Roman's grin grew wider. "You're hungry for me already?" he teased.

I felt my face heat up with embarrassment. "No, no, ew! I mean food, can I eat lunch already?" I clarified, trying to sound nonchalant.

Roman chuckled, the sound low and husky. "Go, eat. You're clearly famished." He dismissed me with a wave of his hand, a small smile still playing on his lips.

I didn't need to be told twice. I turned on my heel and walked out of the room, feeling a mix of relief and frustration. As I left, I could hear Roman's low laughter following me, and I couldn't help but wonder what I had gotten myself into.

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

I tapped lightly on the door again, just to be sure I wasn't hearing things.

“Come in,” Roman’s voice echoed through the steamy air, low and calm.

I opened the door just enough to peek in with one eye shut. The mist clung to the tiled walls, and the sound of trickling water filled the space. Roman was submerged in the large tub, only his head resting against the edge. His eyes met mine.

“I’m not that naked,” he smirked, watching me struggle to make sense of what I was even doing here.

I cleared my throat, stepping inside and shutting the door behind me. “I just came to check if you’re... okay.”

Roman didn’t reply immediately. He tilted his head back, eyes closed, letting the silence stretch.

“Do you always worry this much?” he asked eventually.

“No,” I said quietly, “Just... not used to seeing you hurt.”

He opened one eye and looked at me. “Then stay. Sit. Talk to me.”

I hesitated, then slowly lowered myself to the floor, my back against the wall, knees tucked to my chest. For a moment, neither of us spoke. The distance between us felt fragile, like one word could shatter the silence.

“You’re not easy to figure out,” I said finally.

“I’m not here to be figured out,” he replied.

“Then what are you here for?”

He looked at me, expression unreadable. “Maybe to feel something real.”

And then it went silent again.

Roman’s voice sliced through the quiet. “What do you like?”

I blinked, a little thrown off. “Like... in general?”

He nodded, still leaning back in the tub, steam curling around his sharp features.

I picked at my nails. “I like peace. Quiet mornings. Walking without looking over my shoulder. I like hanging out... just being.”

He hummed. “What do you like about me?”

I looked at him sharply, surprised by the question. “Nothing.”

His brow lifted, but he didn’t look offended. Maybe he already knew.

“What do you like about me?” I fired back, half-curious, half-defensive.

The silence that followed was thick. The water settled, the air heavier than before.

Then he said it. Quietly. Simply. “I like your p•ssy.”

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