Loving My Billionaire Stepson
SYNOPSIS:
Before meeting Elliot Winter, Michelle's life was a routine of beatings from her drunk dad and juggling part-time jobs. He was handsome, loaded, and had a smile that could melt ice.
There was also a twenty-year age gap between them, Michelle didn't care because their relationship was the only ray of sunshine in her rather bleak world. And when he popped the question she was more than happy to say yes. Michelle thought she had found her happily ever after, but she couldn't have been more wrong. With each year that passed Elliot became more of a stranger and less of the man she had fallen for, neglecting her and looking the other way when his mother treated her poorly, that was until the day their 5th anniversary rolled around, she caught him in bed with her sister.
Her love is replaced by hate, a swooning affection now burning rage. Well, two could play that game. That night, she dials her stepson's number with a single text that will change their lives forever.
'I need you tonight'
Chapters
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Chapter 1
I gasped as he pulled out his fingers, subtly positioning himself between my legs as his smoldering eyes pinned me down, the tip of his manhood hovered inches away teasing me.
"This is wrong..." I whispered, shamefully turning my head to the side of the pillow, "...I am your step-mom...your father will–"
"Don't think about that man now..." he cooed as he slowly slid and destroyed the uncrossed boundary between us.
•••••••••••••••
The doctor handed me a white envelope holding the pregnancy results, his face solemn and neutral. Yet I gulped nervously, already knowing what to expect.
"I've grown five extra gray hairs waiting for you, are you planning to open the envelope sometime today?" My mother-in-law who sat next to me sneered sarcastically. I sighed inwardly, brushed my finger over the crisp piece of paper as I extracted its content.
Negative
Beatrice clutched her leather purse, standing up in a flurry of annoyance"What was even expecting?" she scoffed, "disappointing everyone is the only thing you are good at, other than being a barren husk," the doctor hardly even blinked, it broke something inside of me to know that a practical stranger was so familiar with my degradement that he'd become desensitized in the process.
I followed Beatrice from behind, head bowed as she continued the parade of shame through the halls of the hospital, several eyes turned towards us as she called me every name under the sun.
I'd trained myself to swallow her insults like water, keep my head weekly, bow my lips tight holding back any retort.
And for some reason.
This irritated her even more.
We got to the elevator, and I walked ahead to press the button like a helpful little servant.
She made sure to give me an unnecessary shove as she walked past, then when I tried to follow in after her she held up her purse like a barrier.
"Use the stairs; it wouldn't hurt to burn off all that extra fat once in a while. " The doors closed just in time to hide my burning tears, which pooled in the corner of my eyes. Quickly, I wiped them off with the back of my hand. The last thing I needed right now was another reason for people to stare at me.
I ran down the stairs in a blaze, aware that my mother-in-law would probably drive off if I wasn't in front of her within the next 7 minutes.
By the time I reached the parking lot I was sweating, my clothes stuck to my body in an icky manner, she didn't even have the decency to hide her smile of satisfaction when she saw me laboring my way towards her.
Every month I had to endure this humiliation.
She would drag me to the hospital, with or without any symptoms of pregnancy. Get me tested only to make a fool out of me. She did it without fail every single month.
I was sick of it.
But I couldn't dare complain.
My husband loved his mother with a passion, if she needed me to jump his only response would be; "How high?"
She looked at me from the crown of my head to the tip of my toes, dragging her demeaning eyes across my frame with a scowl of disapproval.
"Just looking at you is an eyesore, I don't even know why my son stays married to you,"
She looked at me, waiting for a rebuttal. Anything that would make her treat me more poorly, but I kept the mask on my face neutral and unmoved, knowing that was the only way I could get back at her–depriving her of the sick satisfaction that she got from tormenting me.
More wrinkles formed on her face, I could see the Rusty wheels in her head thinking of the next insult she went through then her expression cooled and unraveled on her lipstick-slathered lips.
"Maybe this is why my son cheats on you, at least he can have some fun outside to be able to tolerate coming back to you again,"
My chest tightened, and I almost faltered but I held on to my mask.
She always hinted at my husband having 'fun' beyond the confines of our matrimonial bed but I never paid her much heed.
I planned to do the same today, then she brushed forward grabbing my arm which had no fingers so I couldn't escape. Holding me in a vice grip that was impressive for somebody in their 60s then she whispered in my ear.
"Golden cove hotel, room 102," she backed away that devious smile never falling, "go there if you want to know the truth,"
She clicked open her purse and fished out some ruffled Dolan bills, tossing them on the ground like she was handing them to a beggar.
"This should be enough to get you there," She said, openly relishing in my misery.
She got in her car as I remained transfixed to the spot, I only broke out of it as she left the spot from her car splattering on my face and dispersing around.
Slowly, almost as if I was reaching for a bomb I bent down to pick up the bills.
My heart told me to ignore Beatrice, she was a sad pathetic woman who had never known happiness in her six decades of existence and chose to pick on me because my husband, Elliot Winter, looked the other way. He'd always apologize after days like these, He'd buy me flowers and tell me that this was just the way his mother was.
I put up with it because I love him, and in her own checkered way, she loved him too.
I squeezed the money into my hand, heading towards the road to swing down a cab.
"Where are you heading?" The driver tossed the question at me just as I was getting comfortable in the back seat, two choices were in front of me right now, I could easily tell him to take me back to the Winter mansion, where I would live the rest of my day in oblivion and blissful ignorance.
And whenever Elliot gets back you'll have under his arm a cliché bouquet of roses. He'd ask me about my day and apologize for his mother. I would accept the flowers and suppress the feelings of inadequacy and shame that I had endured all day.
"Ma?" The cab driver called out.
I took a deep breath.
"Golden Cove,"
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9.3
My husband, Deegan, plunged a needle into my heavily pregnant belly. He said it was a mild sedative to "slow things down." The truth was a brutal betrayal.
His brother's widow, Karmen, was also due, and her son had to be born first to secure the family inheritance. He was sacrificing our child for money.
He locked me in a panic room, leaving me to suffer through agonizing contractions alone.
His sister found me, not to help, but to kick me and let her venomous snake sink its fangs into my arm.
As I lay bleeding out, my baby dying inside me, he had all the life-saving medical equipment moved to Karmen's private clinic, leaving me with nothing.
He called me a manipulative actress, a gold-digger trying to steal the inheritance. The man who swore to protect me left me to die on a cold floor, choosing a birthright over his own child.
But I didn't die. My billionaire father saved me, and I was reborn from the ashes of my grief. Years later, when Deegan stormed into my boardroom, convinced he could drag his "dead" wife home, I looked at the pathetic man he'd become. I slowly pulled the wedding ring from my finger and let it fall to the floor.
"The woman who loved you died that night."
7.9
Jace Maddox is a billionaire tech CEO known for his cold heart and strict routines. Behind closed doors, he's a man haunted by betrayal, grief, and secrets too heavy to share.
River Hale is an ex-military bodyguard with nothing left to lose. Disgraced and angry, he's hired to protect the one man he can't stand, Jace Maddox.
When a dangerous scandal threatens to destroy Jace's empire, the only way to survive is a fake relationship. A staged romance to control the media.
But fake feelings start to feel real.
As secrets unravel and enemies close in, both men must face their pasts, and the truth about what they've come to mean to each other.
8.8
After years trapped under the cruelty of her stepfather's control, Isabella knew the rules of surviving in a world ruled by men like Marco Deluca - never be noticed, never be wanted. But when she becomes a witness to something she was never meant to see, Vincenzo spares her life for reasons he doesn't understand.
Drawn to her quiet strength and fearless gaze, he finds himself willing to burn his empire to keep her safe. But loving him means stepping into a world that destroys everything it touches... and she might be the only thing he can't afford to lose.
9.0
I married the CEO of the powerful Powers Corporation, and everyone saw me as the perfect trophy wife. They assumed my days were filled with nothing but shopping on Fifth Avenue.
But this prestigious family was a house of cards. My husband's siblings were spoiled, useless children threatening to bring the entire empire down with their stupidity.
His brother, Braden, was a parasite who mistook his trust fund for "freedom." His sister, Chelsea, was a brainless socialite being used as a pawn in a public scandal by a con artist.
Even the family's ruthless Chief of Staff, a man meant to be their shield, looked at me with utter contempt, viewing me as just another problem to be managed.
They all saw a fragile doll. They had no idea that their weakness was an insult to the family name, and I was not going to stand for it.
It was time to discipline the children. The first lesson began at 3,000 feet, when I kicked my brother-in-law out of a plane mid-flight. His rehabilitation—and my takeover of this family—had just begun.
9.0
Once a pampered princess, Alaina now clutched a deactivated American Express card, staring out at Central Park. Her family’s fortune was gone, her life, over.
Her family's Hamptons estate, a four-generation legacy, was seized by Dyer Capital. The name hit her: Hardin Dyer, the poor boy she’d once scorned, had returned.
Hardin marched in, serving a divorce agreement. He'd orchestrated her family's downfall for revenge, giving her 24 hours to vacate his property. Penniless, her father faced prison, needing $50 million. Her mother forced her to beg Hardin, who sneered, offering the money for her body. Alaina ripped up the contract.
Hours later, her father had a heart attack. Desperate, she became "Lexi," a club girl enduring humiliation. In the Viper Room, Hardin's lackeys demanded she lick whiskey off his shoe for $10,000. Hardin watched. Outside, her brother Ashton's hand was threatened for a $3 million debt. Spirit shattered, Alaina returned, knelt on broken glass, offering to sign. But Hardin declared her family "dead," offering $10 million for her body, commanding her to use her mouth.
In a furious act of defiance, Alaina threw whiskey in his face, snatched the check, and fled. Yet, when he finally took her, a searing, foreign pain and blood on the sheets revealed a shocking truth: he had never touched her three years ago. Why had he let her believe such a monstrous lie?
7.6
I was the ultimate trophy wife, a polished ornament in Francisco Zimmerman’s billionaire empire. For three years, I perfected the "Zimmerman Wife Smile," playing the role of the devoted partner while smoothing the Egyptian cotton of his shirts.
The illusion shattered when I stood outside his study and heard him laughing with his mistress, Annalise.
"She’s just a vase that only knows how to smile," Francisco’s voice was cold, devoid of any warmth. "As long as I pay the maintenance fees on time, she stays obedient."
I walked out that night with nothing but a canvas bag and the clothes on my back. But Francisco wasn't finished with his "asset." He froze my bank accounts and used his massive influence to blacklist me from every interior design firm in New York. He tracked my phone, watching me struggle from the shadows, waiting for me to starve so I would crawl back to his mansion.
He even showed up at the dive bar where I was playing piano for rent money, mocking my desperation.
"You have technique, but no heart," he sneered, tossing a silver coin into my tip jar as if I were a beggar. "You're hollow, Iris. Just like your pride."
I couldn't believe this was the same man whose life I had saved during a bloody night in Macau. To him, I wasn't a wife; I was a stock price that needed stabilizing. The more I fought for my independence, the tighter he pulled the net, determined to break my spirit until I had no choice but to return to his gilded cage.
Then, the morning sickness hit. I realized I wasn't just carrying my own life anymore—I was carrying his heir. If Francisco found out, he would never let us go; he would turn my child into another "performance bonus" for his brand.
Looking at the sonogram, I knew a divorce would never be enough to escape a man who thought he owned the world.
"I'm not going back," I whispered, staring at his yacht moored in the harbor. "To save this baby, Iris Potter has to die."