Falling for My Stepson

Public facade, Private hell

The flashing cameras nearly blinded me as Victor paraded me through the crowded charity gala like I was his prized possession.

I stood beside him in a long silver gown that cost more than my family’s old house. Victor kept his arm tight around my waist. His fingers pressed into my skin through the fabric every time someone looked our way. I smiled until my cheeks hurt, but inside I felt completely dead.

“You are doing well tonight, Ava,” Victor whispered in my ear as we moved through the room. “Keep smiling. Everyone is watching.”

“Yes, Victor,” I said softly. “I am trying.”

He introduced me to important businessmen and their wives. His hand never left my body. Sometimes it rested on my lower back. Sometimes it brushed my hip. Each touch reminded me that I belonged to him. I kept scanning the room for Damien. He stood in the corner watching us with dark, burning eyes. The jealousy on his face made my stomach twist.

Victor pulled me closer as an older couple approached. “This is my beautiful wife, Ava. We are very happy together.”

The couple smiled politely. I forced another smile and said, “It is nice to meet you.”

When they walked away, Victor leaned in again. “You seem distant tonight. Is something bothering you?”

“No,” I lied. “I am just nervous around so many important people.”

He gave me a cold look but continued showing me off. I felt like a trophy on his arm. My mind kept drifting to Damien. Every time our eyes met across the room, heat rushed through my body. I hated myself for it.

A few minutes later, I excused myself to use the restroom. As I walked down a quiet hallway, a strong hand grabbed my wrist and pulled me into a hidden corridor behind a heavy curtain.

“Damien,” I gasped.

He pressed me against the wall. His body covered mine. “I cannot watch him touch you like that anymore,” he growled. “You are mine, Ava. Not his.”

Before I could answer, his mouth crashed down on mine. The kiss was desperate and full of hunger. I kissed him back just as hard. All the tension from the past days exploded between us.

“I need you,” I whispered against his lips. “I hate this so much. I hate pretending to be his wife. Every time he touches me, I think about you.”

Damien cupped my face with both hands. “Then leave him. I will protect you. I will take care of your family. I cannot stand seeing you with him.”

“I want to,” I said, my voice shaking. “I need you too, Damien. You make me feel alive. But I am scared. He has so much power. If he finds out about us, he will destroy everything.”

We kissed again. His hands moved down my body. For a moment, I forgot where we were. I forgot about the hundreds of people just outside the curtain. I forgot about Victor.

“I love how you feel,” Damien said between kisses. “I cannot stop thinking about you. Even when I try to hate you for marrying him, I still want you.”

“I feel the same,” I admitted. “I feel so guilty, but I cannot stop wanting you.”

Footsteps suddenly echoed in the hallway. Someone was coming.

“Mr. Langford is looking for his wife,” a security guard called out. “Check the corridors.”

Damien cursed under his breath and stepped back. “Go. Before they find us.”

I quickly fixed my dress and hair and stepped out from behind the curtain. My heart pounded as I walked back toward the main hall. Victor stood waiting with a sharp look on his face.

“Where were you?” he asked.

“I got lost on the way back from the restroom,” I said. “This place is so big.”

He studied my face for a long moment. “You look flushed. Are you sure nothing is wrong?”

“I am fine,” I replied. “Just tired.”

The rest of the night passed in a blur. I stayed by Victor’s side and played the perfect wife while Damien watched from a distance. The tension between all of us felt unbearable.

Later that night, back in the penthouse, Victor closed the bedroom door and turned to me. His expression was cold.

“You were distant tonight, Ava,” he said. “I do not like it when my wife acts like she does not want to be with me.”

“I am sorry,” I said quietly. “I will do better.”

He walked closer and started unzipping my gown. “Show me. Prove that you remember who you belong to.”

Victor pushed me onto the bed and took me without any warmth. I lay there silently, biting my lip to stay quiet. The guilt crushed me. I had kissed his son at the gala. I had told Damien I needed him. Now I had to let Victor use my body again. Tears slipped from my eyes as he finished and rolled away.

“You will give me what I want soon,” he said before falling asleep. “An heir. Do not forget why you are here.”

I waited until he was asleep, then slipped out of bed. I could not take it anymore. While searching for something to wear, I opened one of Victor’s drawers and found a thick folder.

I opened it with shaking hands. Inside were photos and reports. Pictures of Damien in different cities. Notes about his movements. There were even dates and times that matched when Damien and I had been together. Victor had been tracking his son for months. He knew more than he was letting on.

My blood ran cold. He was playing a game with both of us.

I quickly put the folder back and returned to bed. Sleep would not come.

Around three in the morning, my phone vibrated on the nightstand. I picked it up quietly.

The message contained a clear photo of me and Damien kissing in the hidden corridor at the gala. Below the picture, the words read:

“I know what you did. Choose wisely.”