Trapped by My Billionaire Stepson

The old billionaire grabbed his son by the arm, yanking him forward. You ungrateful bastard, this is your new stepmother. Show some respect!

Is that so? Knox tilted his head. A dark, wicked smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. Because my sweet new stepmom used to call me her husband.

My feet cemented to the marble floor.

The blood rushed from my face, leaving a violent, deafening ring in my ears.

Three years ago, I teamed up with him on Discord for ranked matches. Once I used him to carry me to the top tier, I dumped him cold.

Three years later, my family lost everything. I became an old billionaire's trophy wife, only to come face-to-face with my ex-fling in the middle of this massive estate.

Then, the old billionaire croaked right on our wedding night, leaving me alone in the master suite.

A heavy knock rattled the door. I opened it to find my stepson blocking the hallway.

A dangerous, consuming heat burned in his bloodshot eyes.

He stepped right into my space, forcing me to tilt my head up, his voice dropping to a raw, ragged rasp.

"Cleo, I look exactly like my father. Why can't it be me?"

Chapter 1

On New Year's Eve, my little esports wolf carried me through a battle royale ranked match, slaughtering the entire lobby.

After a ten-game win streak, his possessiveness snapped because I popped a shield on another DPS player and stuck by them a little too long.

"You love orbiting other guys so much? Go be his exclusive support and stay the hell away from me."

But I had zero patience for his tantrums. I instantly unlinked our in-game couple status.

My phone vibrated immediately. A voice call. "What the fuck does this mean?"

"We're done."

His volatile temper flared through the speaker. "Oh, perfect. You called me hubby in the lower ranks, but the second I carry you to the top tier, you dump me? What the hell am I to you?"

I didn't reply. I just ghosted him.

He clearly couldn't let it go. He bombarded my phone with a new text every hour.

It started off aggressive.

[ If I ever come looking for you again, I'll drop my last name. ]

Until eventually, my proud little wolf crumbled.

[ Cleo, can you just let me keep carrying you? I don't trust anyone else watching your back. If you really like that guy so much, bring him along. We can queue up as a trio. ]

[ My massive trust fund unlocks next month. Let me buy you that discontinued, custom gaming gear, okay? I can even bury that other guy in cash while I'm at it. ]

He threw a fit all night. Finally, he posted a photo of a bleeding wrist on Instagram with a single caption.

[ Forgetting her. ]

My stomach dropped.

I forced myself to type back.

[ Be a good boy. I got diagnosed with a terminal illness, and I'm dying tomorrow. I'll love you in my next life. ]

Once I pacified him, I instantly logged off.

The truth was, I wasn't dying. I was getting married.

The husband I was marrying was mature, steady, and an old-money billionaire straight off the Forbes list. He just needed to be hooked up to a ventilator 24/7.

Originally, I would have rather died than agree to this.

But a year ago, my parents died in a car crash. Our family company went bankrupt, leaving behind a mountain of debt.

I took my grandmother and fled the debt collectors, seeking refuge at my aunt's house.

My aunt constantly laid hands on my grandmother. My uncle tried to grope me every single night.

Today, my grandmother caught my uncle trying to force himself on me. The shock triggered a massive heart attack, landing her in the hospital. Now, I needed 200,000 dollars for an emergency surgery.

A fallen heiress was worth less than dirt. When my aunt ordered me to marry this old man, I literally had no other choice.

I had struggled. I had agonized over it. I even swallowed my pride and went to my childhood sweetheart to beg for a loan.

He just scoffed at me. "Cleo, look how far you've fallen. You want to get back together?"

"Too late. The line of girls chasing me stretches all the way to Paris. Get to the back of the line."

Brooks was my childhood sweetheart. We dated for a while.

The breakup was incredibly messy. Assuming his brain was fully functional, it made perfect sense that he refused to lend me a single cent.

By marrying the old billionaire, he would pump ten million dollars into my aunt's company.

In exchange, my aunt would pay off my parents' debts and cover my grandmother's medical bills.

I couldn't find a better way out.

After finalizing the deal, I retreated to the basement, boosted my little gamer boy's rank one last time, and dumped him.

I transferred the last 0-05.00 in my Venmo to his account. Then, I told him I was terminally ill.

Just to make it believable, I mailed him a packet of instant hot cocoa powder a few days later and claimed it was my ashes.

Once that was handled, I deleted the game from my phone.

The very next day, I went to meet the richest old billionaire in the state.

I was satisfied with him. He was loaded, and he had a 24/7 private nursing team taking care of his every daily need.

He was very satisfied with me, too. I used to be a nursing intern, and my skills with a suction machine were top-notch.

My aunt immediately rushed us into the wedding.

I was only twenty-one, but the old man claimed the legal procedures for the prenuptial agreement and the family trust were too complicated, so we would sign the actual marriage certificate later.

The real reason my aunt was so frantic was that the old man was about to kick the bucket. The wedding was set for the holidays.

The old billionaire was eighty-two. There was no grand receptionjust a private dinner between the two families.

Right there at the dinner table, I finally found out the old man had two sons.

The eldest son was from his first wife. They divorced ages ago, and due to some bad blood, the eldest son didn't show up to the family dinner.

The youngest son was the old man's illegitimate child with his secretary. After giving birth, the secretary grabbed a massive fortune and vanished, dumping the kid on the old billionaire.

The youngest son was currently a junior in high school. He had just gone through a messy breakup with his girlfriend, attempted suicide, and was currently stuck in the hospital, so he missed the dinner too.

Attempting suicide over a breakup. A paranoid, stage-five clinger rich kid like that was a walking red flag. I had to stay the hell away from him.

Chapter 2

For the first month of my marriage into this billionaire family, I did nothing but suction the old man's throat and stare at the walls. I never even caught a glimpse of the youngest son.

Until I fed the old man a cherry.

He choked. His vitals crashed, and the lawyers were rushed in to draft his will.

The butler finally dragged the youngest son out of his pitch-black room and shoved him toward the old man's hospital bed.

He wore his private school uniform. Because he was so tall, the blazer rode up on his frame, the messy fit entirely salvaged by his razor-sharp jawline. His dark hair hung past his eyes, and his skin was paler than a ten-day-old corpse.

The second his eyes landed on me, he froze.

A heartbeat later, he let out a dark scoff. "Old man, your taste is getting more twisted by the day."

He dragged his gaze over me. "You couldn't even spare the little nurse?"

The old billionaire, who was barely clinging to life a second ago, practically bolted upright, coughing violently. "You ungrateful bastard! This is your new stepmother. Show some respect!"

To be fair, I was wearing a clinical scrub top and a surgical mask to take care of the old man. The misunderstanding was warranted.

"Oh?" Knox dragged his eyes up and down my frame. "I don't have a mother. My mother's been dead for years."

He sneered at the bed. "Looking at you, this little nurse is going to bleed you dry sooner or later."

His father hurled curses at him, violently hacking and wheezing.

Suddenly, he coughed up the damn cherry.

Crisis averted.

I stared, dumbfounded. I was already picturing the zeroes hitting my offshore bank account. Un-fucking-believable.

The old billionaire grabbed my wrist. "This is my rebellious son, Knox."

I should have slapped on a perfectly obedient, gold-digger smile, but my facial muscles completely locked up.

Knox?

If my memory wasn't failing me, the little gamer boy I dumped exactly a month ago was named Knox.

It couldn't be a coincidence. The world was massive. There was no way I'd run into him right here.

I forced myself to reach out. "Nice to meet you, Knox. I'm Cleo. You can call me your stepmother."

He glanced down at my outstretched hand, his eyes dripping with disgust. "Don't touch me. You're filthy."

The old man shot him a lethal glare. "Is that how you speak to your stepmother?"

Knox stood there, unfazed by the threat. "How should I speak to her? Tell her she looks like patient zero for a biohazard?"

"Aren't you afraid of dropping dead even faster? Run a background check on her, old man."

The kid's mouth was so venomous my fingers twitched with the urge to slap the smug look off his face.

But for the sake of the money, I kept my lips pinned in a polite, plastic smile.

"You keep acting this arrogant, and you can kiss your trust fund quota for the rest of the year goodbye." The old man played his ultimate trump card.

The mocking smirk wiped off Knox's face.

His expression shattered, the edges of his eyes flushing a dark red. When he spoke again, his voice was tight and raspy. "Don't bring that up to me."

"She's dead. What the hell do I need those trust funds for?"

I stared at him. What?!

I only heard he had an estranged older brother who never came home. Nobody ever mentioned a sister.

My immediate thought was: Great, another heir to split the inheritance with. Fuck.

"Online girlfriend this, online girlfriend that! You've never even met her in person! For all you know, she was some middle-aged guy catfishing you!" His father roared.

"What kind of high schooler wastes his life on internet dating and tries to kill himself over a breakup? You've completely lost your damn mind!"

Oh.

He meant an older woman he was dating online. False alarm. My inheritance was safe.

Knox exploded. He stepped right up to the bed and roared back, "What the fuck do you know about love, old man?! She was my entire life!"

"Anyone who disrespects her is dead to me. I'm going to find her sooner or later."

He spun on his heel and stormed out of the room.

The butler immediately scrambled after him. Later, he reported back to the old man that the youngest son had deadbolted his bedroom door again.

Who knew how many days he would lock himself away this time.

According to the butler's whispers, Knox had an absolute obsessionthe ultimate girl who got away. Rumor had it she died, which was why he was constantly trying to end his own life.

The old billionaire was shaking with rage, aggressively sucking down oxygen through his nasal cannula between heavy sighs.

"A stupid kid. Throwing his life away over a damn breakup. How the hell am I supposed to hand the family empire over to him?"

I stood by the bed, nodding vigorously in agreement. Exactly. You tell him.

The old man shot me a sharp look. "Oh? Tell me exactly what you're agreeing with."

My jaw dropped. Wait, what?

Chapter 3

"What I mean is, the destructive power of a dead first love is massive. If we don't handle his grief properly, he might actually end up killing himself."

The old billionaire rubbed his chin in thought. "I think you're right. I'm putting Knox in your hands."

"Keep a twenty-four-hour watch on him. If he dies, I'm donating every last cent of my estate to charity."

Wait.

Don't donate it. Leave a couple million to me.

But my lips stayed glued shut. I just nodded and accepted the order.

Following the old man's instructions, I went upstairs to knock on Knox's door.

I knocked three times.

The first time, I brought up a plate of sliced fruit.

The second time, I brought up a grilled cheese sandwich.

The third time, I ordered delivery.

On the last try, the heavy oak door finally swung open.

"Do you want a Starbucks secret menu iced shaken espresso?"

He stared down his nose at the iced coffee in my hand. Without a word, he swatted his arm out, slapping the cup right out of my grip. It shattered against the wall, ice and liquid exploding everywhere.

He pointed a rigid finger down the hall. "Get the fuck out."

"Got it."

I turned on my heel and bolted straight back to my room.

Well, that confirmed it. This Knox was definitely not my little gamer boy Knox.

My Knox was obsessed with Starbucks iced lattes. If I ordered him a venti, he'd act like a puppy with a new toy for an entire month.

I had just let out a long, shuddering breath when my phone buzzed on the nightstand. A new text message.

[ Princess, my dad got a new stepmom. She's hideous. I hate her. ]

[ You're the only one I love in this world. I miss you so much. ]

My eyes practically bugged out of my skull.

I jolted upright, bouncing off the mattress.

The text was from "Sweet Knox."

How the hell could there be a coincidence this insane?

The billionaire heir, my brand-new stepson, was the exact same puppy I had faked my death to dump.

How was I supposed to clean up this mess?

No. You are a grown woman. Face your problems logically.

Go to sleep first.

I lay back down, staring up at the ceiling, mentally retracing every single step of our online relationship.

First, I never told him my real name while gaming. He only knew my Discord tag: Princess.

I had him saved in my phone as "Sweet Knox."

We texted, but neither of us ever posted our faces on Instagram, and we never swapped photos.

The few times we actually used voice chat, I forced my pitch up into this sickeningly sweet, cutesy gamer-girl voice that literally made me want to gag.

There was no way he would recognize my actual speaking voice.

Plus, when I dumped him, I explicitly told him I had a terminal illness. I even Photoshopped a heavily blurred medical diagnosis and sent it to him, followed by a literal bag of "ashes."

The execution was flawless. With his lovesick, obsessive brain, he would never spot the holes in the story.

By the time I finished organizing my mental alibi, it was past 3 AM. Exhaustion finally dragged me under.

I ended up jolting awake before 8 AM to the sound of high-pitched screaming.

If you knew it was a billionaire's estate, you'd know it was the maids.

If you didn't, you'd think someone was butchering a pig in the hallway.

I had no idea what was going on out there, but the screeching made it impossible to sleep. I dragged myself out of bed and opened the door.

The hallway was chaotic. Three maids were practically kneeling on the floor.

Knox sat heavily on the velvet sofa, his face a terrifying, bloodless white. His chest heaved. He was so furious his voice actually shook.

"The ashes were sitting right there. How the fuck do they just disappear? Did somebody eat them?!"

The hostility rolling off him was suffocating.

I swallowed hard, forcing myself to walk downstairs and play the role of the mature, comforting stepmother.

"What's missing? Don't panic. The estate is wired with security cameras. Nobody stole anything."

He shot me a look so venomous, he didn't even dignify me with a response.

The head maid looked up at me, trembling. "Madam, the young master keeps an urn of ashes enshrined on that display counter. They were kept in a paper cup."

"It's always been untouched. But when the young master checked this morning, the cup was completely empty. That's why he's furious."

Wait. Paper cup.

"Are you talking about the paper cup for the instant hot cocoa?"

"Yes."

Hearing that single word, the blood drained out of my face.

The floor seemed to drop out from beneath my feet.

Because yesterday, when I brought Knox his Starbucks, I saw a packet of instant hot cocoa sitting on the display counter and decided to brew it for myself.

But I didn't want to drink out of the cheap paper cup it came in. So, I dumped the brown powder out and mixed it in my own glass mug.

When I brought his drink to his door, he slapped the iced latte away, which knocked into my mug, sending the "hot cocoa" shattering across the floor. I didn't even get to take a sip.

Only now did I realize there was a sticky note next to that paper cup that read: The Tomb of My Beloved. I had been completely blind to it yesterday.

What the fuck do I do now?

Just as my brain screamed at my legs to turn and run, Knox's bloodshot eyes snapped to me.

"Hot cocoa?" His voice was a deadly, quiet rasp. "I remember you brought me a drink yesterday."

Chapter 4

Oh, shit. I was dead.

"No, you're remembering it wrong."

He shot me a look so lethal it could have slit my throat. "Butler, pull up the security footage."

"There's there's no need for that, is there?"

"Didn't you just say to check the cameras, stepmom? Why are you shaking?"

Me: ""

His hand suddenly clamped around the nape of my neck, his grip so viciously tight I was practically being lifted off the marble floor. Of course I was shaking.

"Just listen to me explain"

"Fine. Ex-plain. It. To. Me."

He leaned in, every syllable dripping with a low, threatening venom.

He roared, the raw sound vibrating against my chest. Even the butler flinched, instinctively taking a step back before muttering, "I've never seen the young master this furious."

I was screwed.

In the end, I had to bite the bullet and admit I messed up.

What kind of normal person keeps ashes in an instant hot cocoa paper cup anyway? I really didn't notice. But yeah, the brain-dead idiot who drank it was me.

At the time, I just wanted to make the fake ashes look realistic. So, I mixed some instant hot cocoa powder with baking flour from the kitchen and filled up half a paper cup. I told him it was a memento to remember me by.

I assumed he'd take one look at it and toss it straight into the trash. Who knew I told him to keep me in his heart, and he literally built me a shrine?

No wonder the "hot cocoa" I tried to brew yesterday clumped up like drywall paste.

He wasn't listening to a single word I said.

The color drained from his face, leaving his skin a sickly, ashen gray.

His voice cracked, barely above a broken whisper. "You don't understand what that hot cocoa meant to me and her."

He didn't scream at me anymore. He just turned, his shoulders slumping heavily as if the life had been entirely sucked out of him, and dragged himself back toward his room.

Only after he walked away did I notice the wet drops on the back of my hand.

His tears.

They burned against my skin, sending a wave of panic crashing through my chest.

The butler stepped forward. "Madam, the young master's condition is extremely concerning."

No shit. I wasn't blind.

What kind of mentally stable billionaire heir goes digging through the estate's dumpsters in the pouring rain, just to find a shattered glass mug he slapped away yesterday?

It was pouring outside, sheets of freezing rain battering the grounds, and none of the staff dared to stop him. Guilt chewed a massive hole in my stomach. I grabbed a large umbrella and sprinted out into the storm to cover him.

"Sweet Knox, stop looking."

His frantic digging froze. He shot a deadly glare over his shoulder, water dripping from his dark hair. "Are you out of your fucking mind? Who gave you permission to call me that?"

The memory instantly snapped me back to the first year I played the battle royale with Knox.

He was always the icy, untouchable prodigy. A ruthless, emotionless carrying machine whose only job was to boost my rank.

Until one day, when I found out his real last name, I jokingly called him: "Sweet Knox."

He had just wiped an entire enemy squad in the game and walked his character right past mine. "Are you out of your fucking mind? Who gave you permission to call me that?"

I just laughed through the headset. "If you don't call me Cleo, I'm going to call you Sweet Knox."

He was pissed. He ignored the objective, aggressively hunting down the enemy team and racking up thirty kills on the spot. "Call me Sweet Knox one more time, and I'll spawn-trap them and slaughter them a hundred times. Try me."

"I. Don't. Believe. You."

He went feral. The slaughter was so brutal the enemy players started spamming the all-chat:

[ Hey enemy carry, are you psycho? Just end the game! What kind of man takes his lover's spat out on us?! ]

I don't know which exact word triggered it, but something in that message pleased him.

He instantly destroyed the enemy base, then dropped the sweetest, softest message in our private chat:

[ Cleo. ]

The harsh reality ripped me back to the present. The umbrella was violently shoved out of my grip.

Knox found the shattered glass mug I threw away yesterday.

Because the glass was jagged, it sliced deep into his palm. Bright crimson blood mixed with the rain, dripping steadily onto the wet concrete. It was horrifying.

I reached out to wrap his hand, but he snapped, pulling away aggressively. "Can you just get the fuck away from me? You are so damn annoying."

"The wound is going to get infected. You'll need a tetanus shot," I warned him gently.

"What the hell do you know?" he snarled, clutching the bloody glass tightly to his chest. "My blood is mixed with hers now. We'll be together in the next life."

Me: "??"

Okay, that was even more horrifying.

A broken mug filled with literal kitchen trash and flour paste that smelled like spoiled garbage, and he was treating it like a sacred relic.

I honestly couldn't watch him torture himself over flour paste anymore. I bit my lip and offered a tiny, helpful hint.

"Actually when I tried to drink it yesterday, the cocoa flavor was still pretty strong."

He shot me a cold, deadpan look, actually pausing to consider the logic. "She loved drinking it. It became her natural scent. You wouldn't understand."

Me: "?"

Fine. Awesome. I don't understand.

This boy's lovesickness was terminal. He was completely beyond saving.

Chapter 5

I didn't expect the lovesick idiot to come for me right after he finished cleaning up his precious mug.

That very night, he had his staff chuck my luggage half a mile down the estate driveway.

He threw down a brutal ultimatum right in front of his father. "It's either me or the little nurse. Choose. You can't have both."

"You ungrateful bastard!" The old man coughed violently. "Is that how you speak to your stepmother?!"

"If anyone else pissed me off, I wouldn't even care. But she crossed my absolute bottom line." Knox stared his father down, his jaw tight. "Do you want to bury your youngest son, old man?"

The old billionaire was so livid he practically hacked up blood, his journey to the grave fast-tracking at double speed.

He waved Knox and me out of the room, wheezing that he needed time to think.

Cold panic gripped my chest.

The terrifying truth was, the old man's ten-million-dollar investment into my aunt's company was still in the negotiation phase. The money hadn't hit the offshore accounts yet. Naturally, my aunt hadn't paid off my family's debts. Even my grandmother's emergency surgery bills were still pending.

And the old man and I hadn't signed the actual marriage certificate.

If I got kicked out now, I'd walk away with absolutely nothing.

After agonizing over my empty bank accounts, I swallowed my pride and went to find Knox to negotiate a truce.

I found him out in the massive glass greenhouse. A lit cigarette dangled from his lips as he knelt in the dirt, planting flowers.

I took a step closer. Sunflowers. My favorite.

Hearing my footsteps, he shifted instinctively, blocking the blooms from my line of sight. "Looking to beg for forgiveness?"

"Yeah. Knox, we need to talk."

He ignored me, flicking a pile of ash onto the soil. "See these flowers? They were her favorite. I tried growing them for three years, and they finally bloomed this season."

He slowly stood up. "I told myself that once they opened, I'd take them and go find her. Too bad she's dead. She never even got to meet me, let alone see these flowers."

He turned to face me, his eyes dropping to the dirt. "And you destroyed her ashes. You want me to forgive you?"

A hollow, broken laugh escaped his chest, his gaze dead. "How the hell am I supposed to forgive you?"

A sharp, unexpected ache twisted hard in my gut.

For the past year, while I thought the entire world had abandoned me to drown in the dirt, there was someone out there treasuring me like this.

The crushing weight of my own cruelty finally hit me. I never should have lied to him.

But what was I supposed to do now? Tell him the truth? He would literally bury me alive.

I took a deep breath, smoothing my expression. "How are you so sure she can't see them?"

He narrowed his eyes. "What the fuck does that mean?"

"I didn't come to beg for your forgiveness. I came because I think I dreamed about your girl last night."

He froze.

A second later, he let out a dark scoff, clearly thinking I was pulling a cheap con.

That was, until I mentioned the girl in my dream was calling out the name Sweet Knox.

He went rigid.

He took a long, sharp drag of his cigarette, a desperate attempt to cover the sudden erratic jump of his pulse. "You think I'd buy that? What kind of cheap scam artist are you?"

He tossed his trowel into the dirt, turned his back, and strode away.

But I saw the way his fingers trembled violently around the cigarette.

At 3 AM, I got out of bed to use the bathroom. A heavy knock rattled my bedroom door.

"Talk. What else did she say in the dream?"

It was Knox.

Dark circles bruised the skin under his eyes, and he reeked of stale nicotine. He clearly hadn't slept a wink.

So, for the rest of the night, he sat heavy on the velvet sofa in my suite, grilling me with a relentless interrogation.

"What did she look like?"

"Two eyes, one mouth, and a beauty mark on her nose."

He rubbed the back of his neck. "I knew it. Fucking irresistible."

Me: ""

"What did she like?"

"Money, Starbucks, battle royale matches, and sunflowers."

His broad shoulders slumped slightly. "She didn't mention me?"

"She she just said she liked someone named Sweet something."

"That's me." A genuine, breathtaking smile finally cracked across his face. As he smiled, the tips of his ears flushed a brilliant red. The ruthless heir was actually blushing.

"Why did she come to you?"

"She told me to tell you to focus on your college applications and get top grades. And to treat your family wellstepmothers included."

He shot me a deadpan glare.

"I fucking hate school. Did she really say that? Couldn't she pick anything else? Gaming, street racing, snowboarding, surfing literally anything else?"

"Uh I'll ask her next time."

He let out a long, defeated sigh. "Forget it. Whatever she wants, she gets. I'll spoil her rotten."

Me: "?"

"Isn't she older than you?"

"What the hell do you know?" he scoffed, leaning back into the sofa. "I might call her my older woman to her face, but that's just to pamper her ego. Behind her back, she's my little girl."

Chapter 6

A muscle tightened in my jaw. Wow. Playing the sweet, obedient boy to my face and calling me his 'little girl' behind my back? Real smooth.

I ended up talking so much that I literally passed out mid-sentence.

He fell asleep too. Right on the velvet sofa in my suite.

We were completely drained, sleeping straight through until noon the next day. It was the butler's frantic shouting echoing down the hallway that finally jolted me awake.

"The young master is missing!"

The news instantly reached the old billionaire. The old man practically rammed his wheelchair through my bedroom door.

"Cleo, where is the son I ordered you to watch?!"

Huh? I rubbed my eyes, still trapped in a heavy, sleep-fogged daze. But the guy sprawled on the sofa was even more out of it.

"What the fuck is all that noise? It's so damn annoying."

The voice belonged to his missing son.

The old billionaire stared at me, then slowly dragged his gaze to Knox. His face turned an ugly, choked shade of purple. "You ungrateful bastard! Why are you sleeping in your stepmother's room?!"

Cold panic snapped me awake. I shot a terrified look down at myself. Thank God, my pajama pants were still on. I snapped my gaze to Knox. His were on too.

Knox gave up on trying to sleep. He sat up, kicked off the heavy blanket, stood up, and walked straight toward the bathroom.

If I wasn't mistaken, that was my bathroom. The one currently displaying my matching black lace lingerie set draped over the shower rod.

"Where the hell do you think you're going?" The old billionaire grabbed his arm.

Knox stopped. He lifted a heavy, unimpressed gaze. "What? I can't even take a piss now? You want me to do it right here on the carpet?"

His father completely lost his momentum, his grip going slack. Knox walked into the bathroom and clicked the door shut.

When he finally walked back out, the room was standing exactly where he left them, frozen in dead silence.

"Didn't you order me to bond with my new stepmom? Isn't sleeping the fastest way to do that?"

He shoved his hands into his pockets, shooting his father a deadpan look. "What are you staring at, old man? You actually think I'd touch your woman?"

My heart hammered violently against my ribs. I practically scrambled to smooth things over. "He couldn't sleep! I spent the whole night counseling him, and he just passed out on the sofa."

He let out a dark, mocking scoff at my pathetic, entirely honest explanation.

"Is that true?" the old billionaire demanded.

"Yeah, sure. I'll be back again tonight," Knox muttered casually.

"Didn't you want to throw her out?" his father asked, his brows knitting together.

Knox shot me a lazy, sidelong glance. "Keep her around for now."

Without another word, he waved a hand dismissively and strolled back to his own room.

After Knox left, the old billionaire rigorously interrogated me about his son's mental state.

Naturally, I couldn't tell him the truth.

I just spun a flawless story about how Knox's messy breakup triggered a severe depressive episode. I claimed I had minored in child psychology in college, counseled him through his emotional trauma, and he was now on the verge of a full recovery.

He stared at me, highly suspicious. "I've hired countless top-tier psychiatrists for him, and he physically drove every single one of them off the estate. If you can actually fix him, I'll write you a check for ten million dollars."

Ten million dollars? "Done. Consider him cured!"

Even if I couldn't do it, I had to do it. My sugar daddy was finally dropping the heavy loot.

The very next day, Knox suddenly announced he was going back to school.

He slung his designer backpack over one shoulder, nearly giving the butler a heart attack.

"Madam, the young master's condition seems to have worsened."

Knox hadn't stepped foot on campus in two months since his suicide attempt. His grades were absolute trash anyway, and he despised studying. He had all the time in the world for street racing, surfing, and basketball, but zero time for academics.

The moment he randomly declared he was going to school, the maids practically dropped to their knees in terror, convinced they had triggered another psychotic break.

What the hell do you guys know? I thought to myself. My boy's elite academic bloodline just awakened. Back in the day, the old billionaire graduated from Harvard Business School. Knox's uncles and older brothers were all Ivy League elites.

But that high-IQ genetic streak completely snapped when it reached Knox. The old billionaire had to donate multiple new science buildings to his private school just to keep him enrolled. His professors practically pulled their hair out, scraping together extra credit just to give him a passing grade.

"Move. You're blocking the door. I'm going to be late."

Knox shoved past the staff, a chilling, untouchable aura rolling off his broad shoulders as he strode out the front doors.

The most shocking part was that he had actually gotten a haircut. He traded the messy, overgrown look for a textured, layered cut that exposed his forehead. It was supposed to be a sunny, preppy style, but on him, it just looked dark, sharp, and dangerously brooding.

So damn hot.

Chapter 7

My phone vibrated in my pocket. A new iMessage from Sweet Knox:

[ Princess, I'll listen to you and go to school. If I study until I bleed, will you come back to me? ]

I flinched, my pulse spiking as the old billionaire suddenly patted my shoulder.

He looked at me, his eyes gleaming with total approval. "Cleo, your counseling sessions are working miracles. You mentioned your semester is starting soon. There's nothing pressing at the estate, so go ahead and head back to campus."

"Really?" I instinctively locked my screen, shoving the phone deep into my pocket.

I was starting the second semester of my junior year. I originally thought this sham marriage would completely nuke my degree, and I had been stressing over my final thesis. Now, I actually had time to finish it!

I packed a duffel bag that afternoon and had the estate's chauffeur drop me off at my university.

I buried myself in the lab, prepping my thesis, when a high school friend randomly sent me a screenshot with a congratulatory text.

It was Brooks's Instagram story:

[ 7 lbs 8 oz. Mother and son are doing great. ]

I stared at the screen, my brain totally flatlining.

Right after that, a dozen more high school classmates bombarded my phone.

[ Boy or girl? ]

[ Can't believe you guys had a baby so fast! ]

[ Why didn't you send out wedding invites? Were you waiting to do a joint baby shower and reception? ]

I scowled at my phone, baffled. I clicked over to Brooks's actual Instagram page. His comment section was flooded with our entire graduating class lining up to offer their blessings. And that idiot hadn't bothered to clarify that I wasn't the mother.

Annoyed, I snapped a quick photo of the massive diamond ring the old billionaire gave me and dropped it in his comment section:

[ Not me. I was busy getting married. Didn't have time to pop out a kid. ]

The comment section instantly exploded.

[ Holy shit, what?! ]

[ What happened to the prom king and queen? ]

[ If Cleo isn't the baby mama, who the hell is? ]

Brooks and I started dating in high school. We were the definitive "it" couple of our class. His temper was toxic, and mine was even worse. He constantly picked at my flaws, and I called him an arrogant, narcissistic prick. A messy breakup was inevitable, but the crushing pain afterward caught me completely off guard.

During the darkest part of that fallout, I found Knox.

Because Brooks was aggressively boosting random gamer girls in battle royale lobbies just to piss me off.

Refusing to lose, I spent the price of a coffee on Discord to hire an underage prodigy carry to boost my rank.

"Her rack is bigger than yours, and she doesn't throw psychotic tantrums," Brooks sneered over the phone. "What exactly do you have to compete with her?"

I fired right back. "My carry is hotter than you, his mechanics are miles ahead of yours, he's younger, and he knows how to use his tongue to spell the whole alphabet. What the fuck do you have to compete with him?"

That shattered his ego. He got so pissed off he transferred to a university in Europe the second semester of our freshman year, swearing he would never come back until I begged for forgiveness.

Our fallout was legendary. Our classmates used to joke that they'd be waiting their whole lives to see the season finale of Brooks and Cleo.

Well, I waited three years. I didn't get Brooks crawling back. I got my family's total bankruptcy instead.

Was this the grand finale?

My phone lit up. Brooks miraculously sent me a direct message for the first time in years.

[ Cleo, did you really just completely lose your mind over my post? A fake Google stock image of a ring? Just admit you're sorry. I'll get a divorce right now, fly back, and we can get back together. ]

I stared at the glowing screen. The words get back together seared a brief, sudden heat into my chest. But the sensation barely lasted three seconds before turning completely dead and numb.

I didn't reply.

He double-texted:

[ Speak. Where are you? ]

I left him on read.

A minute later, another text hit.

[ Scared you, didn't I, idiot? The kid isn't mine. It's my sister's. Haha. ]

Haha my ass.

I didn't find a single ounce of this funny. Three years had dragged by. Everything was destroyed. Yet he still thought we were playing some stupid high school game.

My fingers flew across the keyboard.

[ Are you psycho? ]

He replied instantly:

[ Yeah, I'm psycho. What are you gonna do about it? ]

Nothing.

"Fucking idiot," I choked out to the empty room.

I dug my nails deep into my palms, the sudden, hot sting of tears violently blurring my vision.

Later, I heard Brooks booked a flight back to the States that exact same day.

It didn't matter.

What mattered was the sudden, blaring ringtone from the old billionaire.

He told me Knox needed to contact me about something, but since he didn't have my number, he wanted me to send over my contact card.

I opened my mouth to say sure.

Then, a brutal realization hit me like a freight train.

I already had Knox's number.

Ever since I faked my death, Knox had been obsessively sending me texts on his phone. I had seen every single one of them. I had just been playing dead.

Chapter 8

If I let him scan a QR code, wouldn't my entire cover be blown?

After agonizing over it for a second, I texted back a blatant lie:

[ I don't use social media apps. ]

Half an hour later, an unknown number dialed my new cell.

After dumping Knox, I ditched my old phone number and got a brand-new SIM card. But I kept my old gaming profiles active for my previous online contacts.

"Hello?"

"It's me." Knox fell completely silent for a long moment. "Did you dream about her again these past two days? I couldn't sleep again last night."

Oh. The troubled billionaire heir was still losing sleep over love. Unlike us actual adults, who only lost sleep over empty bank accounts.

"No."

"Why are you the only one who gets to see her?" His voice suddenly cracked, raw frustration bleeding through the speaker. "I miss her so damn much, but I can't even get a single glimpse of her in my sleep. Why?"

Facing the absolute, burning intensity of this little gamer boy's devotion, a sudden memory of Brooks from high school slammed hard into my chest.

He used to do the exact same thing. Just because I texted him I can't sleep, he rode his bike across half the city at three in the morning to knock on my bedroom window.

Couldn't sleep because you were missing me so much, huh? You've seen my face now. Go to bed. I'm heading back.

I was so madly in love with him back then.

How the hell did we drift so far apart?

Probably because he had his toxic, arrogant temper, and I had my ironclad pride. Neither of us was willing to bend. So we just shoved each other away until there was nothing left.

A hot, sudden sting burned the back of my throat. I swallowed hard, whispering into the receiver. "Is it possible that she misses you too?"

"Is that right?"

Knox fell entirely quiet again. Then, his tone shifted. "Are you crying?"

He let out a long, heavy sigh. "Stepmom, I wasn't even being that aggressive, was I?"

I hung up the phone.

Crying in front of my stepson was humiliating. The worst part was, I didn't even know exactly why my chest was caving in.

A second later, a new message from Sweet Knox popped up on my screen.

[ Princess, I think I just scared my new stepmom into crying. I wasn't even being that mean, right? Don't worry, I'd never raise my voice at you. I miss you so much today. I can't sleep. What exactly do I have to do to get you to visit my dreams? ]

The shock sucked the tears right back into my tear ducts.

Was this kid completely insane?

Halfway through the week, I booked a bus ticket back to my hometown.

The old billionaire wasn't going to drop dead anytime soon, and Knox was living in the dorms at his elite prep school. With absolutely nothing tying me to the estate, I went back to clear my head.

On the street, I bumped into an old high school classmate. She told me everyone was throwing a massive high school graduation reunion party, and asked if I had missed the invite.

I didn't miss the invite. I just didn't want to go.

Brooks had flown back to the States, and our graduating class was throwing him a welcome-back bash. And I absolutely refused to see his face.

In the end, I was forcibly dragged to the reunion party anyway.

The second I walked into the VIP lounge, I saw Brooks sitting dead center, effortlessly flirting with a cluster of girls from our class. The room had been buzzing with loud, chaotic energy, but the moment I stepped through the door, the noise flatlined.

I suddenly realized how entirely out of place I felt in this glittering, high-energy environment.

Back in the day, I was always the absolute center of gravity, the loudest and most chaotic one in the room. Now, I sat quietly in the corner booth, clutching my drink. Even Brooks seemed completely paralyzed.

He finally locked eyes with me. "You've changed a lot, Cleo. You being this quiet it throws me off."

"People change."

Thankfully, the rest of the class were experts at breaking the ice, and the heavy atmosphere slowly thawed back into a loud, pulsing party.

Halfway through the night, someone threw a joke at Brooks. "Damn, Brooks. You actually have a kid already."

"And the prom queen got married."

"You two overachievers are really out here making the rest of us look bad."

Brooks sparked a lighter, taking a slow drag from his cigarette before shooting me a sidelong glance. "The kid isn't mine. It was a joke. I haven't even graduated college yet. You think I'd actually knock someone up?"

"Damn, bro. You joked about that?"

"Is it not funny?"

"Hilarious. Hahaha, yeah, you totally got all of us."

"Exactly, you even pissed off our prom queen so much she faked a whole marriage out of spite."

The entire booth erupted into loud, mocking laughter.

I took a slow sip of my beer. I set the glass down on the table with a sharp, heavy clink.

"But I wasn't joking. I really am married."

I raised my left hand, letting the harsh club lighting catch the massive, blinding diamond on my ring finger.

The laughter instantly choked off.

Nobody looked at me. Every single pair of eyes in the room slowly drifted over to stare at Brooks.

Chapter 9

A lazy smile stretched across his face. "Cleo, stop throwing a tantrum."

"I'm not."

"It's been years, and you haven't changed a bit. Still playing the spoiled princess." He threw his hands up in mock surrender. "Fine. You want me to bow my head? You win. I surrender. What else do you want from me, Cleo?"

I sat there, quietly watching him act like a complete psycho. Then, I set my glass down on the table and walked out.

He chased me all the way down to the street, demanding to know what it would take for me to stop acting out. Finally, he fully activated his stage-five clinger mode. "You're heading home, right? I'm coming with you. I haven't seen your parents in forever anyway. Let's have them be the judge of this."

I stared at him for a solid minute. A heavy sigh pushed past my lips. "Fine. I'll take you to see them."

I brought Brooks to my parents' gravesite.

All the color drained from his face. He chain-smoked ten cigarettes in a row, his hands violently shaking. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I tried to tell you. You told me to fuck off."

"So you sold yourself to a dying old man for money? You'd do that before coming to beg me?"

"That old billionaire is great. He'll die fast, and he's leaving me a massive trust fund and top-tier private health insurance."

"Are you out of your fucking mind, Cleo? He's practically a fossil. You touch him for five seconds, and he needs a ventilator for half an hour." He sneered. "Can you even get off?"

My feet cemented to the grass.

In that exact second, the brutal reality hit me. Bringing Brooks to see my parents was a massive mistake. He was never going to grow up. Never.

I turned on my heel and walked away. I didn't look back once.

The tears spilled over anyway, hot and humiliating. Hearing his heavy footsteps chasing after me, a sharp spike of panic hit my chest. I ducked into a narrow side alley, slamming straight into a hard chest draped in a private school blazer.

The sharp, clean scent of gardenias mixed with the fading six o'clock sunlight wrapped around me, making the world spin for a dizzying second.

I tilted my head up. The second the face snapped into focus, my brain completely flatlined.

"Knox?"

He dropped his gaze, a dark, wicked smirk tugging at his lips as he looked down at me in his arms. "Hmm? Throwing yourself at the old man isn't enough, so now you're throwing yourself at your stepson? Playing dirty, stepmom?"

A violent jolt of terror shot through me. I practically jumped out of his arms.

A chubby kid wearing the exact same uniform popped out from behind him. "Holy shit, boss. Did you just get hit by Cupid's arrow? That blind fortune teller on the corner was completely spot-on! He said you'd literally run into your destined girl this afternoon."

Knox shot him a lethal glare. "Shut the fuck up. She's my step aunt."

Me: "?"

I forced out an awkward correction. "I'm his stepmom."

The chubby kid's eyes darted between me and Knox, his mouth dropping open into a perfect 'O'. "Boss. Stepmom. You guys don't worry, my lips are completely sealed."

Knox pointed down the alley. "Get out."

I turned to bolt, but Brooks caught up. He stopped short, his brows pulling together in a harsh scowl when he saw me standing next to Knox. "Who the hell are you?"

The chubby kid looked Brooks up and down, instantly reading the room. "Oh, damn. Boss, it's your romantic rival."

Knox didn't even bother acknowledging Brooks.

But the chubby kid puffed out his chest and stepped up. "This is my boss, Knox. Who the hell are you?"

Hearing the name Knox, Brooks's face turned an ugly, sickly color. He stared at the teenager in front of him in absolute disbelief.

"You're that idiot whose tongue can spell the whole alphabet?"

A shudder ripped through my body.

I had mentioned Knox to Brooks before. During our most explosive, nuclear fight three years ago, Brooks had screamed at me: Who the fuck is so damn amazing that he can spell the English alphabet with his tongue?

Knox. My underage prodigy carry.

Brooks had lost his mind with jealousy back then. But once he found out Knox was just a middle schooler, he wrote him off as a complete non-threat.

He probably never factored in that three years later, that middle school kid would be standing at six-foot-one.

My pulse hammered in my throat. I could physically feel the weight of Knox's gaze shifting. He was looking at me differently now.

Cold sweat coated my palms. I reached out, desperately tugging on the sleeve of Knox's uniform, dropping my voice to a frantic whisper. "Knox, can you get me out of here? He's a human trafficker. Please."

It wasn't even about him saving me. I just needed Knox to get the hell out of this alleyway before my entire cover blew up and buried me alive.

Knox eyed Brooks with deadly suspicion. Brooks lunged forward to grab my arm.

Knox grabbed my wrist and yanked me behind his back.

Chapter 10

"Can't you tell she doesn't want to go with you?"

Brooks refused to give up, lunging forward to grab my arm again.

"So damn annoying." Knox shoved me back toward the chubby kid and immediately threw a punch.

Brooks was beaten black and blue. He lay pathetically on the dirt, roaring at me. "Cleo, do you have any fucking brains? You're ditching me to leave with an underage brat who hasn't even gotten his trust fund yet?"

I didn't even look at Brooks. I just tugged on Knox's jacket, urging him to leave.

Knox dragged me over to his sleek, custom street bike parked at the curb. He shoved a heavy racing helmet into my chest. "Leaving? Stepmom?"

"Yeah." I nodded.

He let out a dark scoff. He shot Brooks one last looklike he was staring at a pile of literal trash on the streetbefore throwing his leg over the bike and revving the massive engine.

Half an hour later. The observation pavilion at the top of the mountain.

The sky had turned pitch black. There were no streetlights up here, only the sharp, burning cherry of the cigarette wedged between Knox's fingers piercing the absolute dark.

"Not going to explain? Stepmom?"

"Explain what?" I played dumb.

"Aren't you afraid I'll tell my dad about your messy little love life?" He tilted his head, a dangerous smirk playing on his lips. "He thinks you went back to campus. But here you are, a whole city away, tangled up with your boyfriend."

"He's a human trafficker."

"Oh?" He took a slow step closer. "A human trafficker who knows your real name, Cleo, and has your initials tattooed right on his wrist?"

His smile was bone-chilling. The blood drained completely from my face.

There was no way out of this one. When Brooks was madly obsessed with me, he really did get my initials tattooed on his wrist.

"He's my ex-boyfriend. I'm sorry I lied to you." The words rushed out of my mouth in a panic. "We broke up a long time ago. I didn't come back here to see him. We literally just ran into each other. You have to believe me."

I explained frantically, my chest heaving. He just stood there, letting the heavy, suffocating silence drag out.

He took a final, slow drag of his cigarette, crushing the butt under his combat boot. His dark eyes locked onto mine. "I'm actually a lot more curious about how your ex-boyfriend knows my name. And why he thinks my tongue can spell out the"

Before the words could fully leave his mouth, I slammed my hand directly over his lips.

Fuck. That was just my stupid trash talk. My brain went into hyperdrive. "I was trying to make him give up! I told him your dad could spell the twenty-six letters of the alphabet. He misheard me!"

Knox stared at me over the edge of my hand. He let out a low, vibrating scoff against my palm. I couldn't tell if he bought the absolute bullshit coming out of my mouth.

But standing this close, I finally noticed he had taken some hits too. Bright crimson blood oozed from a cut on his sharp jawline. The harsh red against his pale skin made him look like a lethal, damaged villain from a horror survival game.

I quickly dug into my purse, pulling out a tissue. "You're bleeding."

"Yeah." He didn't raise his hand to take it. He just kept his heavy, burning gaze pinned directly on me.

Fine. My ex-boyfriend beat up my stepson. As his stepmother, I owed him some basic first aid. I stepped right into his personal space, raising the tissue to dab the blood off his lip.

The proximity was suffocating. I could see the faint, pulsing vein in his neck. The raw heat radiating off his skin completely paralyzed my lungs.

Before the tissue even brushed his jaw, his large hand clamped down hard on my wrist. He jerked his face away.

"Don't touch me," he rasped, his voice thick and entirely wrecked. "She wouldn't like it."

My arm froze mid-air.

Young master, your face is literally dripping blood, and you're still obsessing over your dead online girlfriend? I shoved the tissue hard against his chest. This time, he actually grabbed it. He wiped the blood from his mouth, his thick brows knitting together in dark, heavy thought.

"Do you hate me?" I asked quietly, staring at the ground. "Do you think I'm just a shallow gold digger who married your dad for his money?"

He let out a harsh, mocking laugh. "Uh-huh. You'd have to be severely brain-damaged to love him for his personality instead of his bank accounts."

Well. That was painfully blunt.

"You're right. I need money. I desperately need money." A bitter, hollow smile cracked across my face.

When I didn't say anything else, he flicked the blood-stained tissue at me. "If you need cash so badly, go hit up your ex. He looks pretty loaded."

I locked eyes with him. "Do you know what dignity is? If you beg someone for help once, and they slap you directly in the face, would you ever go crawling back to them?"

"I didn't steal or rob anyone to marry your dad. I wait on him hand and foot every single day like a damn maid. Whatever money I get, I rightfully earned."

He crossed his arms, leaning back against the wooden pillar. "No stealing or robbing? You're twenty-one, and my dad is eighty-two. Don't your parents care?"

I froze. A hot sting burned the back of my eyes.

"They're gone. They died in a car crash. The family company went completely bankrupt, leaving behind a massive mountain of debt. And my grandmother is in the hospital right now. She needs two hundred thousand dollars for emergency surgery."

He stared at me for three long, dead seconds.

"Stepmom, are you writing a fucking soap opera right now? Your ability to spin bullshit is honestly terrifying."

Chapter 11

Me: ""

"I wish I was making it up." My voice cracked. "But I came back today to see them. Today is the anniversary of their deaths."

I had zero intention of wasting another breath on him. I turned around and started walking down the pitch-black mountain road. The heavy silence behind me was absolute