Claiming My Mother's Husband

She’s Stunning

KEN

“So… you're a detective?” Vivienne asked with a tight smile, a little shake in her voice.

I didn't answer her immediately. I noticed the way her shoulders were tense, how her fist clenched and unclenched around the fork she was holding.

“Yes,” I answered. “Is that a problem?”

She shook her head immediately, her eyes wide. “Oh no! No, why will that be a problem?”

Yes. Why, indeed.

She wasn't very good at hiding her reactions. She was like an open book that you didn't need to flip the page to know what would happen next.

I noticed the look in her eyes when she saw me. The… hunger. And the goosebumps on her fair skin when we shook hands. It had been obvious, so plain, what was going through her head.

Vivienne Lou was attracted to me. It might be nothing serious, maybe just a brief reaction, but the fact that it was there felt so… wrong to me.

Because—even though I didn't like admitting this—I also felt something along that line for my stepdaughter. That… that attraction.

She was beautiful, stunning, even. With blue eyes that’ll hold your attention and refuse to let go. With a body that’ll make you look twice. She has curves in the right places, skin that looks so soft, I'm tempted to feel it, and dark hair so long and thick, I fought the urge to run my hand through it and feel its soft strands.

She looked so similar to Rana, and yet they were so, so different.

Rana, whom I'll be getting married to soon, not because of some love bullshit, but because I need her. I needed her to cement this new identity I've taken.

Nothing could go wrong with this marriage, and yet here I was, having these unlawful thoughts about her daughter.

I thought I was better than this.

“Is something wrong, sweetie?” Rana asked Vivienne when she kept staring at me with that nervous look.

I didn't miss the irritation in her voice.

That seems to do it for Vivienne, and she snapped out of it, scoffing.

“Cut the bullshit, Rana,” she said with a snarl, glaring at Rana. “That sounds so weird.”

My eyebrows shot up to my hairline, and I turned to Rana to see her glaring back at her daughter. But when she noticed me staring, she quickly softened her face, but a blind person could tell how forced it was.

“Vivien, sweetie, why will you–”

Vivienne shot out of her seat, the chair scraping against the floor, her eyes hard. “Cut. The. Bullshit. This sweet, united family you're trying to paint for him? It's not going to work. Sooner or later, he’ll find out how f****d up our little family is, and what do you think will happen then?”

“You mind your f*****g mouth, young lady,” Rana shot up, pointing a finger at her daughter, and all I could do was stare. “You won't ruin this for me, Vivienne. You hear me? I won't let you ruin my life again!”

“Again?” Vivienne asked in a broken whisper, tears gathering in her eyes. “Again, Mum? I've ruined your life before? When? Was it when you decided to have a child? Was it when you brought me into this world? Did I choose to be here? No! You made that choice, not me! And you say I ruined your life? For something that is way out of my control. How could you look me in the eye and say that? Why do you always say that?!”

She was panting now, tears still gathering in her eyes, not falling. And in those eyes was pain. Real pain. Pain of a daughter who doesn't know what a mother’s love feels like. The pain of a girl who’s been punished for something she had no hand in.

“Get out.”

My eyes grew wide, and I turned to Rana as if to make sure she was the one who spoke. Her jaw was clenched, her eyes locked on Vivienne’s, and there wasn't a bit of sympathy in those blue eyes.

That shocked me down to my core.

“Get out of my sight, Vivienne, and stay out of it.”

From my side eye, I saw Vivienne turn and leave the dining room. I watched her go before I turned to Rana.

“You spoke of her like she was your heaven on earth,” I said, my voice low.

“I lied,” she answered, still staring at the spot Vivienne stood moments ago. She turned to me, fixing her eyes on mine. “What? You don't want the marriage anymore?”

This marriage was like a business transaction. I gave her what she wanted—money—and she gave me something in return, which for me was a cover.

We knew we were both using each other. It was left unsaid, but we knew.

“Fix your relationship with your daughter,” I said instead, picking up my phone and wallet and getting to my feet.

“It's not something I can slap a bandage on, and voilà! It's fixed!” she shouted after me.

“That’s your problem,” I said without looking back as I left. But that look of pain in Vivienne still lingered freshly in my mind.

I left the house, about to head to my car, when my phone panged. I looked down, and it was a message from Burno—my assistant.

“We got the plate number: BMC6702. Other parts of the footage are still undergoing the retrieval process.”

I reread the message before I sighed, massaging my temple.

Almost twenty-four hours after the murder, and this was all we’ve managed to uncover. Whoever was behind this was good, I'll give them back. We couldn't find anything. All evidence was wiped clean, including the CCTV cameras.

This wasn't good for me.

Grey Flecter—the late heiress's father—had personally brought this case to me, with threats that my license would be revoked if I didn't solve it.

I couldn't have that. So I needed more than a plate number.

I headed to my car, but just as I was about to enter, I saw Vivienne dash out of the house. I watched her, about to follow, and asked if she was okay, but I paused when I saw her walk towards a car.

Not just any car, but a black SUV with a familiar plate number.

BMC6702.