I Stole My Father's Mistress

Three days after I broke up with Ryan Lancaster, I held my father’s mistress’s hand at a Sterling family dinner. The dining room went silent. A silver spoon hit the edge of a porcelain bowl with a sharp, lonely sound. Everyone looked at me. Then they looked at her. Evelyn Hart. Twenty-seven years old. Four years older than me. Three months ago, my father personally placed her in Sterling Group’s executive office as his special assistant. Everyone in the company knew what she really was. Richard Sterling’s new woman. Tonight, she wore a pale beige dress. Her dark hair was tucked behind her ears, showing a pair of tiny pearl earrings. She looked soft, clean, and gentle. Like warm water in a crystal glass. But I knew better. Evelyn Hart was not clean. Not completely. She wanted my father’s money. She wanted the Sterling family’s status. She wanted a chance to climb out of the mud. My father bought her an apartment in Manhattan, a car, and a closet full of expensive clothes. Then he put her inside Sterling Group and taught her how to read contracts, meet clients, and recognize useful people. Everyone said it was only a matter of time before Evelyn became the next Mrs. Sterling. As long as my mother died soon enough. Or woke up too late. But my mother was not dead. She was sick. She lived at Cedar Grove Nursing Home and had not returned to the Sterling estate for years. So what was Evelyn? A mistress. A beautiful, ambitious mistress waiting to take my mother’s place. And now, I was holding that mistress’s hand. I looked at my father and said calmly, “Dad, Ryan and I broke up.” Richard Sterling sat at the head of the table. His face darkened inch by inch. “I already know,” he said. “I’ll explain it to the Lancaster family. Tomorrow, you will apologize to Ryan.” “I won’t.” His eyes narrowed. “Chloe Sterling, what are you doing now?” “I broke up with him because I like someone else.” My father looked impatient. “Stop being childish.” I did not answer. Instead, I tightened my fingers around Evelyn’s hand. Her fingertips were cold. She finally lifted her eyes and looked at me. There was warning in her gaze. There was panic too. And something else I could not understand. I ignored all of it. I turned back to my father and smiled. “I like her.” The air froze. Across the table, my brother Adrian slowly put down his fork. My father stared at me as if he had not heard correctly. “What did you say?” I repeated clearly, “I said I like Evelyn Hart.” Bang. My father’s wineglass slammed against the table. Red wine spilled over the white tablecloth like a wound. “Chloe Sterling!” His voice shook with rage. “Do you know what you are saying?” “Yes.” “She is mine!” I laughed softly. “Yours?” I turned my head and looked at Evelyn. Her face had gone slightly pale. But she did not pull her hand away. That interested me. She knew I was dragging her into hell. But she still stood there. No denial. No struggle. No immediate attempt to clear her name. Evelyn Hart was even smarter than I had thought. She wanted to see what I could offer. My father turned to her. His voice dropped dangerously low. “Evelyn. Are you crazy too?” Evelyn finally spoke. Her voice was still soft. Like fog over a knife. “Mr. Sterling, Miss Sterling is only upset.” She was trying to save the scene. I did not let her. “I’m not upset.” I lifted her hand and let my thumb brush over her wrist bone. Her body stiffened. I smiled. “Evelyn, that wasn’t what you said last night.” Her eyes snapped toward me. My father’s face changed. “Last night?” Adrian coughed from across the table. A warning. Don’t overdo it. But the show had already begun. There was no stepping back. I looked at my father and said, word by word, “She told me last night that she liked me too.” Evelyn’s fingers curled slightly in my palm. She did not admit it. She did not deny it. That was enough. To my father, silence was worse than confession. He could keep a young, beautiful woman in his company. He could bring her home while my mother was still lying in a nursing home. He could let everyone know she belonged to him. But he could not accept his daughter holding his mistress’s hand and saying she liked her. And he could accept even less that his mistress did not deny it. My father stood up abruptly. The chair scraped against the floor. “Get out,” he said. I did not move. He pointed toward the door. “If you continue this disgusting game with her, don’t call me your father again.” I looked at him. My heart did not even tremble. I had waited for this sentence for a long time. Slowly, I let go of Evelyn’s hand. Then I stood up and nodded. “Fine.” My father glared at me. “You’ll regret this.” I smiled. “No.” Then I looked at Evelyn. She was looking at me too. Her eyes were too calm. So calm that, for one second, I almost could not read her. I said softly, “The person who regrets it may not be me.” Then I turned and walked out. When I passed Adrian, he looked up at me for only one second. But we both understood. The first step had succeeded. As long as my father was angry enough, he would transfer the assets meant for me to Adrian. And Adrian would later give half of them back to me. That was our plan. Evelyn was a pawn. My father was too. I thought I was going to win. Until three days later, I saw Evelyn again in the company pantry. She came in holding a glass of warm water. I was holding a photocopy of the equity transfer agreement. She saw it. Her steps stopped. I looked up and smiled at her. “Congratulations, Stepmom.” Her brow moved slightly. “Miss Sterling, that title is inappropriate.” “What’s inappropriate about it?” I placed the agreement on the table and stepped closer. “Haven’t you always wanted to become Mrs. Sterling?” She did not step back. She was always like that. She looked fragile. But she was afraid of nothing. I stopped in front of her and lowered my voice. “Now my father is cutting ties with me because of you.” “Evelyn.” “Are you happy?” She looked at me. There was no victory in her eyes. No fear either. Only a faint, cold examination. As if she already knew I was not simply throwing a tantrum. After a long silence, she asked, “Chloe Sterling, what exactly do you want?” I reached out and brushed a strand of hair away from her ear. She did not move. My fingertips touched the tiny pearl earring. Cold. Delicate. Dangerous. I leaned closer and whispered, “I want you.” Evelyn’s breathing stopped for one second. I smiled. “I want you to betray him.”