My Stepfather's Boyfriend

The house was too quiet for a Saturday night.

I should've heard the TV blaring from the living room or the distant chatter of my stepfather on one of his political calls. But tonight, it was silence that greeted me. The kind that made your skin crawl and your heartbeat sound too loud.

Instead, I was pinned against the cold marble of our kitchen counter, lips locked with Tyler's, a boy who had no business touching me. But I wanted it. Wanted him. Wanted to lose myself in something that made me forget who I was in this cursed house.

His lips tasted like cinnamon gum and danger. His hands roamed beneath my oversized tee, finding skin and warmth. I didn't stop him. I guided him.

"Are you sure?" he murmured into the hollow of my throat.

I nodded, dragging him closer with my legs wrapped around his waist. "Just don't stop."

The hum of the refrigerator was the only witness-until it wasn't.

A creak.

We froze.

My heart dropped to my stomach as I turned my head toward the archway leading to the hallway. Standing there, in nothing but a navy robe and holding a half-filled glass of bourbon, was my stepfather. His expression unreadable. Calm. Too calm.

"Skye," he said, his voice even, controlled. "Go upstairs."

I stumbled off the counter, shame coating every inch of my body like sweat. Tyler scrambled to zip his jeans, eyes wide with fear.

"Now."

I didn't look back. I fled.

---

The door to my bedroom slammed shut behind me, and I sank onto the bed, trembling. My phone buzzed once-Tyler.

I ignored it.

Half an hour passed. Then an hour. I didn't hear footsteps, no yelling. No gunshots. Just more silence.

By morning, Tyler was gone. And so was my peace.

---

Three days later, I saw him again.

Tyler.

He stepped out of a sleek black sedan in front of our house, wearing a navy-blue suit and holding a briefcase like some Wall Street intern. I watched from behind the curtain as he walked up to the door and was let in without a word.

My stepfather's study door closed behind them.

I waited by the staircase, ears straining for any sound. Muffled voices. Low laughter. Something about the familiarity of it all made my stomach twist.

Tyler emerged thirty minutes later, straightening his tie like he hadn't had my tongue down his throat just nights ago. He didn't glance at the stairs. Didn't acknowledge me. It was like I'd been scrubbed from his memory.

When the door clicked shut behind him, I stormed to the study.

"You knew about us," I said, standing just inside the doorway.

My stepfather didn't look up from his drink. "I know everything that happens under this roof."

"What did you say to him? Why is he working for you?"

He took a slow sip. "Because he has potential."

I felt heat rise in my chest. "You're disgusting."

He finally looked at me. His eyes were hard. Cold. The same eyes that haunted me in the dark.

"Be careful, Skye," he said. "You're playing a game you don't understand."

I didn't back down. "You killed my mother."

Silence.

He didn't deny it.

He didn't confirm it.

He just smiled. Slowly. Like a wolf playing with its prey.

"You're your mother's daughter, after all. Mouthy. Reckless. Emotional. And like her, you'll end up making the same mistake if you're not careful."

---

That night, I ran.

Not far. Just into the chaos of the city where no one knew my name.

I found myself in a bar I wasn't old enough to be in, sitting next to a woman with eyes like liquid gold and lips that curved like secrets.

"You okay, baby?" she asked, her voice smooth like silk.

I nodded, though I wasn't.

We drank.

We danced.

We kissed.

Her name was Amira. She didn't ask questions, and I didn't give answers. Her apartment was a mess of candles and velvet, and her sheets smelled like jasmine.

She undressed me slowly, like I was a gift. And for a moment, I forgot the world. Forgot the blood on my stepfather's hands. Forgot the taste of betrayal.

Until I returned home.

He was waiting in the foyer.

"You smell like her."

I didn't flinch. "Get out of my way."

He leaned in, voice low. "Keep running from me, Skye. But remember-every secret you bury will dig itself out eventually."

I shoved past him.

---

In the weeks that followed, I began digging.

Through old files, through dusty boxes in the attic, through memories I had locked away. And slowly, pieces began to fall into place.

My mother hadn't just drowned. There were bruises on her wrists.

The autopsy report was missing.

The detective who handled her case? Transferred three days later.

Everything screamed cover-up.

One night, in a locked drawer in my stepfather's study, I found an old photo-my mother and Tyler's father, standing too close. Smiling too much.

Had this all started before I even knew it?

Was I part of a web I couldn't escape from?

And then... there was the note. Slipped under my door.

He's watching. Don't trust the man in the badge.

My heart stopped.

Who wrote it?

Who knew?

The next day, a detective came to our door. Said he was checking in. Routine questioning, he claimed. But his eyes lingered too long. His fingers brushed mine a little too intentionally. And when he left, I saw my stepfather watching from the window, a ghost of a smirk on his face.

The man in the badge.

Was this who the note warned me about?

I needed to be careful.

More than that-I needed an ally.

But who could I trust?

Tyler? No. He was gone.

Amira? She didn't even know my real name.

Then I met Liam.

He was new. A transfer from another city. Quiet. Observant. Handsome in a brooding kind of way. He claimed he believed in justice. Said he didn't play by the rules.

For a moment, I almost let myself believe him.

But late one night, I saw him.

Talking to my stepfather.

Laughing.

Like old friends.

---

That night, I locked myself in my room and screamed into my pillow until my throat ached.

I was alone.

Surrounded by men who wore masks.

But I had fire in my veins and truth on my tongue.

And I wasn't done yet.

I stared at the mirror, tracing the outline of my face.

"You're not her," I whispered to my reflection.

But I was.

I was my mother's daughter.

And I'd bring him down.

Even if it killed me.