All Chapters of My 7 Deadly Stepbrothers : Chapter 41 - Chapter 50

The rest of the day dragged on, my thoughts endlessly looping around the text from dad and my reply to him. I was in my Chemistry class, staring at the equations on the whiteboard, but none of them made sense. Covalent bonds, molecular structures—I usually enjoyed this part of the class, but today, the words blurred into one another, and I could barely concentrate. I found myself doodling mindlessly on the corner of my notebook, my mind somewhere else entirely. The professor's voice became background noise as I replayed that message over and over in my head. ‘Come live with me in London. It’s time we talk. Stop being a gold digger.’ The initial texts sounded like something straight out of a formal letter, not a father reaching out to his daughter after years of silence, and the end was something fathers with sound mind shouldn't ever tell their daughters. He hadn’t called or messaged in so long, not since I blocked his old number after one too many hurtful arguments. So why no

The words didn’t register at first. My brain struggled to process what he was saying. ‘An accident?’ I blinked, staring at him as if waiting for some sort of clarification, but none came. All I could hear was the blood rushing in my ears, muffling the room around me, warping everything into an echo. The furniture, the walls, everything seemed to blur as I stared blankly at Caspian, waiting for him to correct himself, to explain that it wasn’t what I thought. That it wasn’t as bad as it sounded.‘Dad... in an accident? But how? How? What accident?” my mind latched onto the last text I had received from him, just a few hours ago. He was fine. He was fine the whole time as he kept sending me all those nasty messages. I remembered staring at my phone earlier, his messages still fresh. There wasn’t a hint of trouble or danger. He was okay then, so how could everything change in just a few hours? “What?” I finally managed, my voice barely above a whisper. The word came out strangled, as

MomThe caller ID read and I stared at the screen, my heart pounding louder than the ringing of the phone. My fingers were shaking and eyes burning from crying. The word ‘Mom’ flashed in front of my eyes, a reminder of the past that I could never escape. I hesitated for a second before picking it up, feeling a mix of confusion and dread. The last thing I wanted right now was more tension, but I knew I couldn't escape it. My throat tightened as I pressed the answer button, barely able to speak. “Hello?” I said, pressing the phone to my ear. My voice came out weaker than I intended. “Katherine,” my mom’s voice came through, soft at first. It was different—less cold than I remembered. There was a slight tremble, as if she was unsure of what she was going to say. “Derek told me about your dad. I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”Her tone was surprisingly gentle, and for a brief moment, I felt a flicker of comfort. Maybe, just maybe, this conversation wouldn’t spiral into something

The car sped through the dimly lit streets of London, rain gently pattering against the windows. The city I once knew, with its familiar landmarks and winding roads, had transformed. It felt like a distant memory, a place that had once been home but now felt like a foreign place. I pressed my face to the window, the fog of my breath misting the glass as I watched the blur of lights and shadows pass by. Beside me, Lucas stretched his arms over his head, groaning softly as he blinked the sleep from his eyes. “How long was I out?” he mumbled, still half-asleep. “The whole flight,” I said, smirking. “You didn’t miss much, though. We just flew across an ocean.” Lucas chuckled, his laughter lightening the tension in the car for a brief moment. He turned to Caspian, who was seated on my other side, his expression unreadable. “You get any sleep?” Lucas asked, clumsily moving to sit properly. Caspian shrugged, his gaze still focused out the window. “Just a little,” he said quietly. His

The doctor's words brought a wave of relief that washed over me, so sudden and overwhelming that for a moment, I couldn’t breathe. My father was stable—he was going to wake up. The tension in my chest loosened just slightly, though the knots of anxiety and uncertainty still lingered. “Thank you, doctor, for saving my father. I will always be thankful to you,” I said, and the doctor smiled warmly at me. “Thank you so much.” “You don't have to thank me, I was doing my job,” the doctor said, checking the papers in his hand. “Though you need to look after you dad from now on. He can't lift anything heavy for at least four months and needs some physiotherapy sessions. Try to keep him away from doing any physical activity that needs a lot of strength.” “Okay, I will make sure that he is taking care of himself, and not doing something that could hurt him,” Harry said, turning the conversation away from me and towards himself. “I will take care of him and all his needs. Thank you doc