Reverse Harem: I Married My Best Friend's Step-Son

My best friend married into a dynasty.

Naturally, I did the logical thing: I started aggressively stalking her stepson.

I staged a public confession at school, clinging to his leg, sobbing like my heart had been ripped out of my chest.

Every time I confessed, my best friend, Gianna Michaels, appeared.

Picture this: Dead of winter. She struts in wearing a vintage fur coat over a micro-mini skirt, oversized Gucci sunglasses hiding her eyes. She flicks a bank card at my face like its trash.

"0-0 million. Leave my son alone."

Then, clutching the stepson with suffocating motherly love, she coos, "Don't worry, darling. Your father isn't here, but I won't let these trashy gold diggers hurt you."

She showed up so often she practically got frostbite.

So, I escalated. I marched to the gates of their estate, unfurling a massive banner declaring my undying love. It just made it easier for her to come out and pay me off.

This little game worked perfectly. Until her husbands "The One That Got Away" came back to town.

Gianna needed to stall the divorce. So, we both vanished. Ghosted everyone.

Her husband didn't find us. His son did.

Chapter 1

Tristan Grey looked like a storm cloud about to break. He gripped my wrist, his fingers bruising my skin, his jaw clenched tight enough to snap.

"Why her?" His voice was a low, dangerous growl. "Am I not enough for you?"

When Gianna told me she got married, I was in the back of our 'Sociology of Marriage' lecture, trying to quietly eat Hot Cheetos without getting red dust everywhere.

"Why would you ruin your life like that?" I whispered, horrified.

She slid a magazine across the desk.

The cover featured a man who defined the word "distinguished." Silver fox, sharp suit, eyes that could cut glass. The magazine was Forbes.

"That's the engagement gift?" I asked.

Gianna rolled her eyes. "That's the husband."

My jaw hit the floor.

Chapter 2

Gianna went clubbing last week. Without me.

I held a grudge for exactly twenty-four hours.

Because that night, she met Alexander King. Net worth: 'Buy a small country' rich.

They talked. Sparks flew. Chemistry exploded. By morning, they had eloped.

After one night of wedded bliss, the handsome billionaire handed Gianna the keys to a mansion, a stack of Black Cards, and then flew off for a business trip.

Gianna held up five fingers. "Five cards. Each has a 0-00 million limit. And if I spend money on 'household expenses,' the family office handles the wire transfer directly. No questions asked."

I immediately wrapped my arms around her arm, resting my head on her shoulder. "Bestie," I purred, voice dripping with sugar. "We're soulmates, right?"

Before she could answer, the professors laser glare hit us.

"Ms. Quinn, stop squirming in your seat and pay attention."

Chapter 3

Gianna and I drafted a business plan: The Trickle-Down Wealth Effect.

Gianna had a stepson. Tristan Grey.

Conveniently, he attended our university.

Tristan was the result of Alexander Kings rebellious youth. His biological mother dropped him off at the King estate and vanished, pretending he never existed.

He was a junior like us.

"He's an iceberg," Gianna warned. "He treats me like air in his own house."

"If he was a stage-five clinger, that would be creepy," I assured her.

Gianna straightened her posture. "I can handle it."

Then she leaned in, whispering, "Both father and son? They both have God-tier genetics. You'll see."

I saw. I understood.

Chapter 4

"You're taking this too seriously," Gianna said, watching me fold my thousandth origami heart. I had dark circles under my eyes that no amount of concealer could hide. "It's just an act, Charlie."

I didn't look up. "I'm just pretending to be obsessed. It's called method acting."

The next day, I hugged a massive glass jar filled with origami hearts and blocked the doorway to Tristans classroom.

He had a ten-minute break. He looked at me like I was a cockroach on his shoe.

"I don't do people," he said. Voice flat. Dead.

I let my eyes fill with tears. "Forgive me for existing."

Cue Gianna.

She swept in like a hurricane of expensive perfume. "Here's $50,000! Stop harassing my son!"

She threw the card.

The chaotic hallway went silent. Even the professor stopped wiping the whiteboard and adjusted his glasses to stare.

Tristans gaze shifted to Gianna. It was freezing cold. "What did you say?"

I scrambled to pick up the bank card, shoving it into my bag.

I stepped between them, playing the peacemaker. "Hubby, Mom means well. Don't be mad."

Gianna wiped a fake tear. "Being a stepmom is so hard. Goodbye!"

She turned and fled.

I watched her go, then turned my "heartbroken" gaze to Tristan. "I understand the pain of a toxic family. Do you want to talk about it?"

He spat one word. "Get lost."

I burst into fake tears and ran.

Behind me, some guys laughed. "Damn, Tristan. You made two hotties cry in under a minute. New record."

"Get lost," he repeated.

Chapter 5

Later, in a bubble tea shop, Gianna admired her hands. A Graff diamond ring, a Bulgari bracelet, a vintage Van Cleef Alhambra.

She sparkled so much students walked by assuming it was all fake costume jewelry.

I sat opposite her, counting the zeros on my bank app. $50,000.

I used to tutor rich kids to survive. $50 an hour.

The dads tried to touch my hands. The moms tried to pinch my ass. Freaks, all of them.

Now? Two late nights folding origami hearts netted me fifty grand. Motivation surged through my veins.

Gianna got intel from the butler about Tristans hobbies. I started memorizing them.

"Just fake it," Gianna advised.

"No," I said, eyes locked on the list. "I have a rhythm."

Chapter 6

I became his shadow.

Artisanal coffee at 7:00 AM. Truffle fries at midnight. I was always there, hovering.

I requested to follow him on Instagram. He left me in pending. Forever.

Every time I cornered him, Gianna materialized. She was committed to the bitwearing a floor-length Fendi fur coat over a latex mini-dress and sunglasses, even though it was overcast.

"Stay away from Tristan, you charity case!" shed screech.

Then, snap. Shed flick a Centurion Card at my chest.

Id drain the cash, verify the transfer, and slip the card back to her later so she could reuse the prop. Efficiency is key in this business.

Tristan didnt speak anymore. He just walked faster.

I chased his retreating figure, screaming into the wind, "What does she have that I don't?!"

The winter wind cut through my thin jacket. I looked fragile. Broken. Beautiful.

Chapter 7

Gianna hated my small-time mindset. She wanted a blockbuster scene.

"Bigger drama means a bigger settlement," she lectured, rubbing her slightly bloated stomach. "A few hundred grand is pocket change, Charlie. We need millions."

So, I escalated.

I set up a massive heart made of candles in the middle of the campus quad. Snow began to fall in thick, heavy flakes.

It was dinner time. Darkness had fallen. A crowd of hungry students gathered to watch the train wreck.

Inside the heart, written in rose petals: TRISTAN, I LOVE YOU.

He walked out of the library. I blocked his path immediately.

"I love you," I declared, my voice trembling with practiced emotion.

Tristan looked at me. His face was a mask of pure ice. "Get lost."

"No."

Cue Gianna.

"Stop harassing my stepson!"

I gripped my chest. "Is loving someone a crime?!"

"Ugh, you are exhausting," Gianna groaned, adjusting her diamond earrings. "Here is $5 million. Disappear!"

She wound up to throw the card.

But the cold air hit her nose. She sneezed violently. The throw went wide.

The cardloaded with a literal fortunesailed into the crowd of broke college students.

Gianna froze. I lost my mind.

That was my money.

"Don't touch it!" I shrieked, diving into the mob. "Nobody move! That's mine!"

Chapter 8

With $5 million secured, I took a sabbatical from stalking.

But I had to keep the act up for Gianna. "I miss him," I sighed, staring out the window. "He must be so lonely. His father ignores him. His mother abandoned him. He needs my warmth."

Gianna sneezed into a silk handkerchief. "Focus on warming me up first. Im catching pneumonia out there throwing money at you."

We took a break to enjoy the spoils of war.

Private onsen in Kyoto. Sipping Sancerre in Paris. Skiing in Gstaad. Chasing the Northern Lights in the Arctic Circle.

Five-star hotels only. Designer shopping sprees daily.

Technically, Gianna spent the money. I just carried her Herms bags and waited for her to tip me.

We were living the dream.

Then, the news dropped.

Alexander Kings "The One That Got Away" was back in the country.

Chapter 9

William, the head butler, spilled the tea.

Rumor had it Alexander and Eliana Swan were the golden couple back in the day. Soulmates. A power match.

But Tristans biological mother had trapped Alexander with a pregnancy. She secured the bag, birthed the heir, and handed Tristan over like a package before vanishing.

Eliana, heartbroken, fled to Europe.

But now? Tristan was in college. Alexander was older. Eliana realized life was short and true love was worth fighting for.

She was coming to reclaim her throne.

Gianna sipped her iced matcha, unbothered. "Im not moving."

She inspected her fresh manicure, channeling pure villain energy. "Unlimited money. Minimal responsibilities. The husband is never home. I used a lifetime of luck to land this gig. If she thinks Im stepping aside, shes delusional."

I looked at her, worried.

She sounded exactly like the antagonist in a soap opera. And we all know what happens to the antagonist.

I voiced my concern.

Gianna paused. The confidence faltered.

Chapter 10

"You're right," she mused. "Usually, the heroine leaves with her dignity and shocks the world later with her success."

We looked at each other.

We weren't heroines. We were high-maintenance gold diggers who hated working.

While we panicked, Gianna threw up.

A quick trip to the clinic confirmed it. She was pregnant.

We stared at the ultrasound, then at each other. Simultaneously, we thought of the same trashy romance novel trope: The Runaway Pregnant Wife.

We decided to run.

Finals were coming up anyway. Nothingnot even a billionaire husbandwas more important than my GPA.

We spent our mornings in the library, cramming for exams.

And our afternoons planning one final cash grab.

Tristan hadn't been at school lately. Gianna said he was sulking at the estate.

So, I ordered a custom banner online: TRISTAN, I AM SERIOUS ABOUT US!

Chapter 11

Heavy snow fell. I stood outside the iron gates of the King estate, holding my banner high.

I was chasing love and money. Usually, you only get one. I wanted both.

Suddenly, a loudspeaker crackled from the security booth.

"Whoever is outside, put your hands in the air."

I immediately raised my aching arms.

Giannas voice boomed over the intercom. "This little witch is persistent! She keeps harassing my son. We need to humiliate her with cash. Show her she doesn't belong in our world!"

The gates buzzed open.

Gianna stormed out, looking fierce. She threw five black cards at my face.

"Get out! Never let me see you again!"

She leaned in close, whispering rapidly, "$5 million limit on each. Take them and run."

Tears streamed down my face. I fell to my knees, gathering the cards from the snow, my body shaking with "grief."

"You think money makes you better than me?" I sobbed.

"You think you can buy my dignity?"

"Just because I'm poor doesn't mean I don't have feelings!"

I turned my head away, chin up. "I have integrity! We are equals!"

With that Oscar-worthy performance, I stood up and stomped away.

I turned back for one last dramatic look.

Tristan was standing there. Watching me.

I lowered my lashes, looking tragic.

Goodbye, my rich almost-boyfriend. Once I max out these cards, Im going to the club and hiring twenty guys who look just like you. Ill mourn the love that never was.

Suddenly, a hand clamped around my wrist.

Tristan yanked me back. He leaned down, his lips brushing my ear. My heart hammered against my ribs.

"Pick up the trash."

My heart stopped.

"What?"

"The banner," he said, voice devoid of emotion. "You dropped your garbage. Pick it up."

The romantic tension shattered.

I glared at him with genuine hatred. I snatched the banner off the wet ground, clutched my five black cards, and marched away.

Chapter 12

Finals were over. We executed the escape plan immediately.

We ghosted the university.

With Giannas black card, we dropped cash on two penthouses in the citys most exclusive high-rise. Private elevator access, one unit per floor. We took the top two. Neighbors.

Giannas phone buzzed incessantly. Alexander King.

Usually, she would have answered with a dopey grin. Now? She powered the phone down and stared out the floor-to-ceiling window, looking like a tragic widow in a noir film.

"I am done with love," she declared dramatically.

"Men," she sighed, fogging up the glass. "They are only well-behaved when they are six feet under."

I nodded solemnly. "And the... situation in your stomach?"

She patted her belly. "Im keeping the baby. In five years, he will be a genius hacker who destroys his fathers cybersecurity mainframe. Then Alexander will find us, beg for forgiveness, and we will start Chapter Two of our romance."

I blinked. "And me?"

"Youre the rich, successful aunt who drinks wine in the background."

We locked eyes. We burst out laughing.

We clinked our champagne flutes. Two broke college students, technically dropouts, now owning prime real estate in the most expensive zip code in the country.

Life was complete.

Chapter 13

Day one: Moving in.

Day two: The glow up.

We threw on vintage fur coatsmine was a gift from Giannaand headed to the city's most exclusive male revue.

Back at the penthouse, I had a walk-in closet the size of my old dorm room. It was stuffed with designer gowns, diamond watches, and shoes that cost more than a Honda Civic. All courtesy of Gianna swiping her husbands card.

"It's your birthday," Gianna announced as the limo stopped. "I have a surprise."

The bouncer opened the heavy velvet doors to a private VIP suite.

I froze.

Lined up against the wall were twelve men.

They were tall. They were gorgeous. They looked like they had been genetically engineered in a lab funded by Vogue.

I looked at Gianna, tears welling in my eyes.

"Happy Birthday, Charlie," she grinned. "I ordered the whole menu."

We screamed with laughter, clutching each other.

The poor girls had finally won the lottery.

Chapter 14

Fifteen minutes later.

I was reclining on the chest of a man named "Alessandro." His pectoral muscles were hard enough to crack a walnut.

My legs were draped over the laps of two other models who were massaging my calves with scented oil.

One model fed me a chocolate-covered strawberry. Another held a glass of vintage Bordeaux to my lips. Two more were kneading the tension out of my shoulders.

Gianna was in a similar setup across the room.

In the center of the suite, six other men were putting on a show that involved tearing off their shirts and rippling their abs to the beat of the bass.

This. This was living.

I held Alessandros hand. He was currently weeping about his tragic backstory.

"My father has a gambling debt," he whispered, a single tear tracking down his chiseled cheekbone. "My mother needs surgery. My brother... he has special needs. I had to drop out of med school to strip... just to save them."

My heart shattered. I was ready to empty my bank account.

Before I could, the guy massaging my left leg jumped in. "Sweetheart, I'm an orphan. I've never known the warmth of a family. Being near you... it's the safest I've ever felt."

He rested his head gently on my chest.

My face burned. I had never been this close to a man, let alone three at once.

Chapter 15

I was flustered.

Then, a face that looked like a walking Calvin Klein campaign leaned in close.

He held a peeled grape between his teeth. He hovered inches from my lips, waiting for me to take it.

My brain short-circuited. I forgot about the orphan and the med school dropout.

We partied for four hours. Since Gianna was pregnant, we kept it PG-13 and paid the bill.

I didn't have the guts to take anyone home. Deep down, I was still a coward.

The next day, we went shopping.

We bought too much. The bags were heavy. Gianna didn't hesitate. She walked up to a stunningly handsome doorman at a luxury boutique and offered him triple his salary to carry our bags to the car.

Back at the penthouse, the doorman flexed his bicep. "I can do more than carry bags, ladies. I can clean. Cook. Whatever you need."

Gianna and I looked at each other. The lightbulb went on.

She posted an ad online immediately: WANTED: Male Household Staff. Must be over 6'1". Must have visible abs. Must be under 30. Salary: $20,000/month. Dignity optional. High ego need not apply.

Within two hours, our penthouse was staffed.

We hired four "Mannies."

One was mopping the marble floors, his glutes flexing with every push.

One was cleaning the floor-to-ceiling windows, shirtless.

One was in the kitchen, chopping vegetables in an apron and nothing else.

One was practicing a pole dance routine in the living room for our entertainment.

We didn't need to leave the house. Paradise had come to us.

Chapter 16

We had lost all concept of time. Then, the doorbell rang.

Manny One went to check the monitor. He stood at attention. "Ma'am, there is a hideous man outside asking for you."

Gianna sighed, filing her nails. "I don't know poor people, and I definitely don't know ugly people. Send him away."

"Yes, Ma'am."

Thirty seconds later, Manny One stumbled back into the room. His left eye was already swelling shut, turning a violent shade of purple.

"Ma'am... he hit me!"

Panic erupted. I threw myself in front of Gianna, arms spread wide.

"Assassin! Code Red! Protect the Heir!"

Gianna clutched her stomach. Our futureand the genius hacker baby who would save our finances in five yearswas at risk.

The four Mannies formed a human shield.

Manny One: "Kill me first! I die for the Ma'am!"

Manny Two: "I'll seduce him! My body is a small price to pay for your safety!"

Manny Three: "I'll tackle him! You guys run!"

Manny Four: "I had protein shakes for lunch! I'll unleash chemical warfare!"

I was moved to tears. Such loyalty. Such bravery.

Then, the intruder stepped over the threshold.

We all froze.

It wasn't an assassin. It was Tristan Grey. And his face was colder than the Arctic circle.

Chapter 17