Knocked up by my new stepdad

Viola.

I was in a boarding school and had just finished my last year. Mom had left me there to get married after she split from Dad.

She stopped caring about anything except herself. She always went for guys who could spend on her to match her material lifestyle—she'd inherited a ton of money.

On top of that, she was getting a huge alimony from Dad, all because she didn't give a damn about me and shipped me off to boarding school. But I was done.

The second I heard from her that she'd gotten married, I knew I had to go back. I wasn't staying in any far-off college anymore.

The house she got married in? That's supposed to be Dad's house—Dad's. And the money she's blowing on her new husband? That's my money and Dad's. I'm not letting her take everything again. If she wants to get married, she can take her hubby and get the hell out completely.

I love Mom, but I hate her selfishness. She's always acting like she's the young one, even though she's not. I'm 18, and she's about 40. When I go back, we'll see who this guy is that the old hag married—and who's probably living off her too.

I packed my bags. Whether they're expecting me or not—even Mom didn't bother to come with the driver to pick me up—I'll show up at the house, surprise them, and make their lives hell.

Within a month, her new husband will want out of that house completely, or they'll both split for good. She needs to get it through her head that she's getting older; she can't keep having fun with guys like this forever. Even if it's marriage...

The driver opened the limo door for me, and I climbed in. The whole ride, I was thinking and plotting how to make her new husband hate himself, hate his life, hate me, hate Mom, divorce her, and leave her high and dry.

A million ideas flooded my mind. I pictured some fat, short guy with a huge gut, bald, barely able to walk, coughing from how pathetic he was. But that was where the shock hit.

We pulled up to the villa gate, and unexpectedly, there was Mom standing there to greet me with the staff. She opened her arms wide, super excited. The problem? Mom was so gorgeous that she looked like my older sister. She'd changed completely—her vibe was way better toward me. She hugged me and kissed my cheek for the first time in my life.

"Viola, my love! I've missed you so much. Finally, you're back. Finally, you'll live with us."

I leaned back, raised my eyebrows, and stared at her. "Live with you? You think I'm gonna let you have your big, old husband move in with us in the same house? This is Dad's house. Just because Dad didn't kick you out and let you stay doesn't mean you can take advantage of his kindness and let your husband live here with us. This house is mine."

Before Mom could open her mouth to say anything—though I half-expected her to slap me or something—I heard a voice from behind her.

"Who said we're gonna live here? You will move With us."

I turned slowly, hands on my hips. Instead of seeing some sleazy professor type and wondering what level he was at or what his house was like, I found a guy in a perfectly tailored suit. His black hair was long and thick, and he was so broad that I could see his muscles bulging under the Armani suit he was wearing—a seriously high-end brand. It gleamed with his style and sharpness.

Guards flanked him on both sides. No way—was that his personal security? Who the hell was this guy?

I stood there speechless, unable to talk. He came down the stairs and looked at me. "Hey, beautiful."

"Not beautiful—you're just flattering me. Who are you?"

Mom pulled a certificate from her purse and pinned it to her chest proudly. He smiled at me—like he was teasing me, mocking me. "I'm your mom's husband. I'm Mark."

I was stunned, tongue-tied. What could I even say? How? He was gorgeous, at least ten years younger than Mom. And rich. Why the hell would he marry her? I'm not saying Mom's ugly, but she's had me—she's not some young thing. I'm 18.

I found myself snapping back sarcastically, "And you married Mom? There has to be something wrong with you."

Mom freaked out and yelled at me, "What do you mean? You think I don't deserve him? You think I'm ugly?"

I looked them up and down and said, "Anyway, if you two wanna go live somewhere else, go ahead. I'm out."

As I tried to walk past, I shoved his shoulder. He grabbed my arm and pulled me toward him. "Right now, I'm in Dad's position. That means my word is law."

I frowned and said to him, "You can't boss me around. I'll tell Dad on you."

He laughed sarcastically and said, "You think your dad can stand up to me? Do you even know who I am?"

His words dripped with insane confidence. I wanted to freak out, but I tried to play it cool. I yanked his hand off and said, "To me, you're nothing. If you wanna take Mom and live with her somewhere, go far away from here. This is my house."

He leaned in close to my face and said, "We'll see about that."

Suddenly, he scooped me up, threw me over his shoulder like I weighed nothing, and carried me all the way to the limo.

He told Mom, "Come on, let's go." He dumped me inside the limo and slid in next to me. Mom got in too, still holding my hand. He told the drivers, "Let's go."

There were a ton of cars following us—like we were with a minister or something. No way this guy was just some regular businessman.

He looked loaded. I started yelling at them, "I'm calling the cops! I'm reporting you! Get away from me!" I pounded on him with my fists and arms, but he didn't react at all.

Stone-cold, he looked at me and said, "If you can call the cops, then call them."

He whispered in my ear, low and confident, like it was burning into my neck. It was such a weird feeling. I stared at him and shut up until we arrived.

Suddenly, I found myself in front of... not a castle—a freaking fortress. Massive, guarded like a fortress with armed security.

The gates opened and closed automatically, and there had to be 50 or 100 staff—tons of people. Stunned, I said to her, "Who the hell did you marry, Mom?"

She laughed as we got out, and he said to me, "Welcome. This is our new palace, and you'll be living here with us."

I stood there shocked. Then she added, "Oh, by the way, that graduation party you're heading to tonight? You can't go. We're throwing a party at home instead."

"I'm going to the party! My friends are waiting for me!" I groaned dramatically.

There's no way I am letting them ruin that night for me. I had planned for this night outing for so long!

He walked ahead of us without a care and told the guards, "Get everything ready for the party. Send Viola the dress and outfit I picked out for her—put it in her room."

" You picked out my clothes? Who do you think you are?"

He's acting as if he was my husband not my Mom's husband!