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'
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Chapter 4
Hayden's pov
Calm down. Calm down...
She's here.
She's here in my Villa.
Is this a dream? If so I'd like to sleep for a little more. I sizzle coming from the frypan was merely background noise compared to the chaos in my head.
There was a blend of emotions battling for dominance in my mind; anger, excitement, worry, curiosity, and more. Some of them were directed at her and the rest at my sperm donor.
He never even deserved someone like her.
Then he dared to go around sleeping.
I was at war with myself every day, resisting the urge to just grab my car keys and drive over to take her from right under his nose. His affairs were more or less like an open secret, and Golden Cove was his usual spot for his disgusting extramarital affairs.
I thought she already knew about it, and just nipped it in the corner of her mind without thinking about it
I wouldn't be surprised if he managed to gaslight her into thinking it was her fault he was cheating and to accept it.
"Hayden?" A tingle ran down my back hearing my name from her plump lips, her voice ever calming like light ocean waves.
I mentally cemented myself to be unmoved when I turned around and almost immediately failed. I'd given her one of my smaller shirts that stopped fitting right after I hit the gym. It inhaled her inside, stopping at her hips. I'd also given her some briefs I'd ordered online that ended up arriving in the wrong smaller size.
I was pissed off back then but now I'm almost grateful for their callous mistake.
I thought the day she'd wear my shirt would remain in my shirt would only remain in my dreams... no, Hayden, bad Hayden! Not now... that's not what she needs right now.
"Take a seat," I said gesturing to the bar stool placed in front of the kitchen Island.
It was physically painful to watch her move, each motion was unbearably slow and while they were brief, she'd pause as well. I'm sure she wasn't even aware that she was doing it, my body had probably grown accustomed to that after all the stress Elliot put it through.
If I didn't need to be here right now I would have driven back to Golden Cove and done something that would have landed me in a mugshot tomorrow.
"Is there something on my face?" The question shot at me unexpectedly, my face warmed up and I snapped my attention back to the noodles I was cooking.
"No, why would there be?"
Should I tell her that she's lost weight? No, maybe that would be body shaming... What if I just casually say it?
I ended up saying nothing, I served her a helping of the stir-fry instant ramen with vegetables and sunny side egg and she gawked at me like I just found the final clue to solving world hunger.
"This is too much..." She said her tone wrapped in embarrassment, "I don't deserve all this..."
I never knew that I could feel such an intense mixture of rage and sadness at the same time.
She deserved the world and yet looks like she was about to break down over instant ramen.
So much hard to changed about her since the first time I met her.
Too much.
I can't forget the way her eyes sparkled like they had stolen the stars and hidden them behind those hazel orbs. Back then she was plump and skipped about with reckless abandon.
From the moment I saw her, I knew she didn't belong with a scheming wretch like Elliot.
Elliot had invited me to join them for dinner at his home, normally it was hard for me to ingest food knowing that his face was going to be at the other side of the table. But we had some business to discuss that day, and he hadn't stopped talking about his new catch for weeks.
It made my stomach twist just thinking about it.
There are very few things in this world that are more discomforting than knowing your father's 'girlfriend' was around the same age as you, pure, undiluted revulsion would mix up in my stomach just watching him mess around with them.
That night, she was the one who answered the doorbell.
I was doom scrolling through my phone, when her voice thrown up an octave entered my ears.
It remains the most musical thing I have heard to date.
"Hayden, right?"
I couldn't speak for 10 solid seconds when I saw her, time slowed down and my phone nearly slipped from my fingers.
Then everything was bleak and dark again when my father showed up from behind, gingerly wrapping his hand like a snake across her waist. I watched it as my gaze sent invisible lasers at his spiteful touch.
"Welcome, Son," he said in that grating voice of his, squeezing her even tighter. My knuckles formed as I subconsciously knew what he was doing, he was drawing a line while showcasing a fresh catch.
I never had any problem with getting women, in fact the way the ones falling out of my feet even when I lacked interest.
Despite being partially aware of that, Elliot had this one-sided competition going on for years. Showing me that at his big age, he was able to get girls around mine, he was so proud of himself that I'd shifted between pity and disgust just looking at him.
But that's night I experienced something with Michelle, it was utterly different from the revulsion I was used to, no it was the complete opposite.
I was on edge for the entire dinner, and when I went to my apartment that I lived in at the time I tried to push her away from my mind and also the anger that came from thinking about her in my father's arms.
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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."