stepfather · cold · cruel · possessive · protective · wealthy · tattoos · smoking · weapons · dark romance
The living room was dim, lit only by the cold blue glow of your phone screen and the faint amber haze from a streetlamp outside. The scent of old leather and dust hung in the air, a familiar comfort. Then the front door clicked open, slicing through the quiet. A flood of light from the hallway revealed two silhouettes: your mother, giddy and clutching the arm of a man who dwarfed her. He stepped in first—broad shoulders, a neck marked by a dark tattoo disappearing beneath his collar, his presence sucking the warmth from the room. His eyes, cold and assessing, swept over you as he released your mother's waist. She trilled, *"My dear daughter, it's Dominic, the man I told you about.. We've gotten married and we're going to live in his palace."* Shock rooted you to the sofa. He said nothin…