My Stepsister Stole My Husband, So I Took His Enemy

There was a rhythmic tap of fingers on a desk from the other end.

“What exactly does Nadine James want from me?” Jacob asked.

I glanced down at my hands, dry and cracked from the cold. They throbbed and itched like they carried more than they could hold.

I let out a bitter little smile and finally said, “I want you to bankrupt my husband. And then... help me get a divorce.”

“You want a divorce?”

That voice, Russell’s, suddenly rang out behind me.

I jumped, my heart slamming against my ribs. Panicked, I quickly ended the call, my fingers trembling.

I hesitated, remaining speechless.

He walked closer. “If that’s what you want, fine. I’ll give it to you. Our marriage was always business. No love. Better this way.”

A cold shiver crawled down my spine. So that’s all I was to him.

Just a transaction.

“Wait,” I said, turning to leave.

He grabbed my arm.

His voice remained flat and cold as he said, "Can you give the charm necklace to Claudia?"

That charm necklace, crafted by the city’s finest goldsmith on my birthday, was a cherished gift from my parents. It held immense significance.

He didn't even glance at me when he continued, “Claudia likes it. Just give it to her.”

'Claudia likes it? Seriously?'

Just because she liked it, he thought it was fine to give away something I’d cherished for over twenty years. He didn't even give me any space to say no.

Just like the other day, when Claudia casually mentioned that she liked my most renowned painting, he just took all my artwork away and gave it to her.

Even though he knew damn well, she only wanted to destroy them.

I closed my eyes for a second, turned away, and said, “I’ll have someone bring it to you later.”

Then I walked off without even a glance back.

He had no idea that once I got those paintings back, I was gone for good.

No more looking back.

...

That night, I didn’t go back to that house, not that I could call it home anymore.

I holed up in my studio instead, throwing everything I had into my work. Every stroke of my brush was rage, every splash of paint a scream I couldn’t let out. I stayed at it for hours, until the room smelled like turpentine and the air felt thick with fury.

Around 3 a.m., my phone rang.

It was Russell.

His voice was curt, flat. “Come home. Now.”

He never called me at that time. Not unless something serious had happened.

I hesitated. Should’ve ignored it. Should’ve stayed where I was.

But I didn’t.

I grabbed my coat, flagged down a cab, and headed back.

The second I stepped through the door, I barely had time to blink.

A slap cracked across my face, so hard it made the room spin. My cheek lit up in pain, heat flooding my skin. I reached up in shock, barely understanding what had just happened.

Then a sharp kick landed behind my knee. It knocked my legs right out from under me. I collapsed hard, knees smashing into the cold tile. Pain ripped through me like glass splintering in my bones.

And it wasn’t even Russell who hit me.

It was his bodyguard.

I blinked through tears, my vision blurred, my breath catching in my throat. I looked up at Russell, hoping—stupidly—that maybe he’d be angry at what just happened. But he just stood there.

Expressionless. Like I didn’t mean anything.

Then, Claudia crouched down in front of me, playing the concerned little sister, eyes wide and full of fake sympathy. She held up the broken charm necklace like it was evidence in a murder trial.

“Oh, my sweet sister,” she said, all soft and pitiful. “How could you tamper with the lock? I nearly got cut.”

I forced myself to sit up, steadying my hands on the floor, my face throbbing. I met Russell’s eyes. “You dragged me back just for this?”

He didn’t answer right away—just a pause.

Then Russell said it, voice as cold as ever. “I’ve never treated you badly, Nadine. But jealousy doesn’t give you the right to give her a damaged necklace.”

And as if that wasn’t enough, he added, “Kneel and apologize. Three times. Then I’ll pretend none of this happened.”

I blinked, trying to process it.

'Kneel. Apologize. Pretend none of it happened?'

I laughed, but only in my head.

That necklace had been mine since birth. It was a gift from my parents, a symbol of love, protection, and family. Claudia asked for it. She broke it and smiled while doing it.

Only Claudia and I knew the truth about that.

I sat up straighter, cheek still stinging, knees bruised and aching. But my voice didn’t shake.

“I won’t.”

I still had my pride. It was all I had left.

And I wasn’t about to give that up, too.

Russell stared at me, like I was being ridiculous. Like I was the one out of line.

“You’re not a child anymore,” he said, voice low and firm. “Don’t be so willful. We still have to live together.”

I actually laughed out loud that time.

'Willful?'

So saying no to Claudia made me the difficult one?

Since her return, she has taken everything.

My room. My things. My boyfriend. Then my husband.

And I said nothing.

I kept my mouth shut, convinced that if I stayed quiet long enough, maybe Russell would notice it. That perhaps he'd truly recognise the kind of woman Claudia was.

And now here he was, siding with her—the one person closest to me in the world—calling me willful, when all along, I had suffered the most.

My chest felt tight, like my heart had been pickled in acid—every beat hurt.

I didn’t say anything. Just stared at him.

He frowned, clearly annoyed, then turned and scooped Claudia up in his arms like she might break without him.

“You nearly hurt Claudia with your petty tricks and won’t even apologize,” he said. “I really misjudged you.”

Then he turned to the bodyguard.

“If she won’t admit her fault, beat her until she does.”

And just like that, like we were discussing dinner plans, he added, “Claudia’s birthday party is tomorrow. She needs to look perfect. No marks.”

His voice was cold and detached. It was nothing like the man who used to whisper sweet things to me in the dark, holding me close like I mattered.

This was the first time he’d ever treated me like this.

The beating started fast. No warning. No buildup.

Just blows. Fists. Kicks. Each hit landed hard, precise, like this was routine for them.

I curled up, hands over my head, trying to protect something—anything—but it didn’t help. My body screamed in pain, every nerve raw.

Upstairs, I could hear them. Laughing. Talking. Like nothing was happening below their feet.

I don’t know how long it went on. At some point, I stopped feeling the floor. Stopped feeling my hands. Stopped feeling like a person.

Eventually, it ended.

They’d followed Russell’s orders perfectly. No bruises on the outside. Nothing anyone would see.

But inside? I felt wrecked. Shattered.

I couldn’t move. Couldn’t speak.

So I stayed there on that freezing tile floor.

All night.

...

The next morning, I came to in a bed, an IV stuck in my hand.

Everything ached. My body felt like it had been through a meat grinder, but I forced myself upright anyway. Every movement lit up with pain, but I wasn’t about to lie there helpless.

I stepped out of the room, one slow foot in front of the other, trying to steady my breathing.

That’s when I heard them.

Russell and Claudia.

Her voice floated down the hallway, sweet and smug like sugar gone sour. “Russell, why’d you help her? Wouldn’t it be better if she just stayed on the floor?”

And his answer?

“Be good. I won’t let anything ruin your birthday party tonight. After that, I’ll make her leave. This house will be ours, okay?”

I froze.

Those words hit me like a sucker punch to the gut. Each one was sharp enough to cut.

I took a shaky step back, then another. My hand gripped the wall for balance. My legs barely held me up. I shut my eyes tight and turned around, heading straight back to that bed.

Of course.

They were the real couple—the perfect match.

And I? I was just the placeholder. The mistake. The idiot who thought she’d married a man who would protect her and love her back.

But it was never going to be me.

If they wanted me gone so badly...

Then fine.

After tonight, I’d give them exactly what they wanted.