Emrys Harrow was my crush first-then he became my stepdad. Tragic, right?
Dreaming about screwing my mother's man? Yeah, that's a whole new level of messed up.
But this isn't a story about regret. It's about how I seduced my stepdad, made him cheat...
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(Kiki's POV)
The tension between me and Hayde was thick, almost suffocating. We stood in our university courtyard, staring at each other like two wounded animals, both too stubborn to make the first move.
But this time, I refused to let him walk away.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, my voice barely above a breath. "Please, don't leave me?"
That was it- the refs between us dissipated. We spent the next few hours at his place, eating junk food, watching terrible reality shows, and laughing like nothing had ever gone wrong. It felt normal—like the old us.
For a while, I forgot about Emrys.
Until my phone started buzzing nonstop.
Emrys.
I stared at the screen, his name flashing over and over again, but I couldn’t bring myself to pick up. I was still too mad at him.
So I did the bare minimum—I texted back:
“I’m at Hayde’s place. Busy.”
And just like that, I ignored him.
I returned to Emrys’ mansion late in the evening.
The house was eerily silent, the kind of silence that wraps around you, thick and suffocating. My footsteps echoed against the cold marble floors, the air heavy with something unspoken.
A shiver crawled up my spine.
Where was everyone?
The usual hum of life—the clinking of dishes, the distant chatter of staff, the faint sound of a television—was missing.
I found Jackson standing stiffly by the staircase, his face unreadable.
"Where's Emrys?" My voice wavered, a strange weight settling in my chest.
Jackson hesitated. His lips parted, then pressed shut like he was swallowing words he wasn't allowed to say.
Something inside me twisted.
"Jackson," I pressed, my heart hammering now. "Where is he?"
His gaze flickered toward the hallway, avoiding my eyes. His hesitation said more than words ever could.
And then, finally, he muttered, “He’s— resting. With Blaisy.”
The world around me tilted. With Blaisy. No.
No, he wouldn’t.
He couldn’t.
But the way Jackson looked at me—the pity in his eyes—made my stomach drop.
