Dark Desire.

Living with a Stranger.

On walking into the house, I was met with a sight that made my stomach turn. My stepdad, Mr. Tony, was standing in the kitchen, stirring a pot of food on the stove. I couldn't believe my eyes. He was supposed to be at work, not lounging around the house like he owned the place.

I felt a wave of anger wash over me. What was he doing home? And why was he cooking? He never cooked. He always left that to my mom, or rather, to me after she passed away.

"Emily, I'm preparing your favorite dish," he said, looking up at me with a forced smile. "I didn't get a chance to make it for you on your birthday, so I thought I'd surprise you today."

I didn't want to engage in conversation with him. I didn't have the patience or the serenity to pretend like everything was okay. He still made my skin crawl, and I couldn't shake off the memory of what I had seen him doing on my bed.

I simply nodded at him and turned to head upstairs to my room. I couldn't wait to get away from him and his fake smile.

As I climbed the stairs, I felt a sense of relief wash over me. I had changed the bed sheets and sprayed air freshener in my room to try and erase the memory of what I had seen, but it wasn't working. The image of my stepdad and that woman on my bed was still etched in my mind, and I couldn't shake it off.

I flopped onto my bed, feeling exhausted and emotionally drained. I didn't want to think about my stepdad or his antics anymore. I just wanted to sleep and forget about everything.

As I drifted off to sleep, I couldn't help but wonder what other secrets my stepdad was hiding. And I couldn't help but feel a sense of unease, knowing that I had to live with him in the same house.

I hadn't even slept for an hour when I was jolted awake by my stepdad's voice. "Emily, wake up! I'm done cooking, come down and let's eat together." He was standing in my doorway, a forced smile plastered on his face.

I knew he was trying to make amends, to apologize for what I had seen. But I wasn't having it. I didn't want to hear his excuses or his empty apologies. I just wanted him to leave me alone.

I nodded at him, pretending to agree to come down and eat with him. But as soon as he turned to leave, I quickly got out of bed and jammed the door shut, making sure he couldn't open it again.

I leaned against the door, my heart racing with anger and frustration. How dare he think I would just forgive him and forget what I had seen? Did he really think I was that naive?

I took a deep breath and tried to calm down. I knew I had to be careful around my stepdad. I didn't know what he was capable of, and I didn't want to find out.

While I stood there, I could hear my stepdad's muffled voice on the other side of the door. "Emily, open the door! Let's talk about this!" But I just ignored him, standing my ground and refusing to back down.

I knew this was just the beginning of a long and difficult battle. But I was ready for it. I was ready to stand up for myself and fight for what was rightfully mine.

On waking up, I felt a wave of exhaustion wash over me. I was tired and hungry, and I knew I needed to fuel up for the day ahead. I headed to the kitchen, prepared to cook myself a meal, but what I found surprised me. The house was empty, and my stepdad was nowhere to be found.

I wasn't surprised, though. I had grown accustomed to his unpredictable schedule. As a forex trader, he worked irregular hours, and sometimes he wouldn't come home for days. I had learned to fend for myself, cooking my own meals and keeping myself company.

As I stood in the kitchen, I couldn't help but wonder what my mom had seen in my stepdad. What had made her think he was the right man for her, and for me? I had never seen him show any genuine affection or interest in my well-being. He was always distant, always preoccupied with his own affairs.

I suspected that he drank, too. The smell of alcohol lingered in the house sometimes, and I would catch glimpses of empty bottles in the recycling bin. But I had never seen him take hard drugs, thank goodness.

Despite his flaws, my stepdad's absence had become a normal part of my life. Sometimes, he wouldn't come home for two days, and I would be left to my own devices. When he did return, he was always moody or distant, and I had learned to steer clear of him.

I didn't care about his moods or his antics anymore. I had grown numb to his behavior, and I was just focused on getting through each day. As I cooked myself a meal and sat down to eat, I felt a sense of relief wash over me. At least I had my own company, and I could rely on myself to get things done.

I knew I couldn't confide in my stepdad about my meeting with Uncle Eleanor. They weren't on good terms, and I knew he would react badly if he found out. Uncle Eleanor was one of the few people who had always been honest with me, and he had never hesitated to speak his mind about my stepdad.

In fact, Uncle Eleanor was one of those who believed that my stepdad hadn't married my mom for love. He thought that my stepdad had ulterior motives, and that he was only interested in my mom's wealth and property. I didn't know if that was true, but I did know that my stepdad had never treated me with kindness or respect.

That's why I couldn't trust him, and that's why I couldn't leave the house in his care. I was afraid that if I gave him the opportunity, he would sell the house and everything in it, just to get his hands on the money. The thought sent a shiver down my spine, and I knew I had to be careful.

For now, I would keep my meetings with Uncle Eleanor a secret, and I would make sure to stay one step ahead of my stepdad. I wouldn't let him push me around or take advantage of me. I was determined to protect myself and my inheritance, no matter what it took.