My Stepfather, My Ruin

1(Prologue)

I woke up to sunlight on my face and a dull, heavy throb behind my eyes.

For a second, I didn’t know where I was. The ceiling was too white. The room was too quiet. Nothing in it belonged to me.

I sat up too quickly, and the room swayed.

My mouth was dry, and my skin flushed. My entire body felt heavy and sore, and my stomach turned before I could even understand why.

The spot beside me on the mattress was empty, and the sheets were cold to the touch.

I pressed a hand to my forehead and tried to piece together the night before. A glass of fruit juice. The room spinning out of control. A voice down the hallway. Strong arms lifting me up.

After that, everything dissolved into a fog. Just a strange, burning heat, and the sound of my own voice agreeing to something I couldn’t remember.

My graduation dress hung over a velvet chair nearby, carefully folded—a level of neatness I never would have bothered with.

My phone sat on the nightstand, its screen lit with four missed calls: two from my mother and two from my best friend.

None from the person I thought had been with me last night.

I forced myself to believe that it didn’t mean anything.

My hands trembled as I pulled my clothes back on and stepped out into a quiet, unfamiliar corridor. A staff member appeared almost instantly.

“Miss Sinclair,” the man said smoothly. “Your driver is waiting downstairs.”

I hadn’t called for a car. I hadn’t told a single soul where I was.

A few weeks ago, I would have demanded to know how they found me. A few weeks ago, I still believed that asking the right questions yielded honest answers.

I didn’t ask anything this time. I simply followed him out into the morning air, weighed down by the secrets of a house I barely understood, with no idea who had put me in that bed.

I knew only one thing for sure.

Someone had planned last night down to the last detail. And whoever it was, they were nowhere near finished with me.