The Unwanted Son And The Substitute Bride

Amber's footsteps faltered as she ascended the staircase, her head swimming with a disorienting dizziness. Each step felt heavier than the last, her limbs weighed down by a sense of impending dread. She couldn't shake the feeling that something was amiss.

"What is wrong with me?" she muttered.

Passing by her stepsister's room, Amber froze in her tracks, a curious noise catching her attention. It was a sound she couldn't quite place at first—a low, throaty moan, punctuated by ragged breaths and the unmistakable rhythm of human pleasure.

"Ooh," a pleasurable moan escaped out loudly.

As the sounds grew louder and clearer, Amber's breath caught in her throat. There was no mistaking it now—the voice she heard was her stepsister's, moaning in ecstasy.

"Katrina?" She whispered. Amber's stepsister, making love in her room. How strange that her mom, Valentina, allowed her to do such a thing at home.

But the voice accompanying stepsister, the one that sent a shiver down Amber's spine, was all too familiar.

"Kenneth?"

The name echoed in her mind like a cruel taunt, a betrayal etched in every syllable. She couldn't bring herself to believe it. Her boyfriend, the man she loved and trusted, was behind that door, entwined with her stepsister in a web of deceit.

"NO!" She refused to believe it. It could be the effect of her dizziness. She rubbed her temple, trying to get rid of her dizziness.

"No, it's not him," she uttered firmly. But it was more like trying to convince herself not to believe the truth right before her.

"Oh, Kenneth, right there," Katrina yelled in pleasure.

Amber's heart hammered in her chest; anger bubbled within her. Katrina's words confirm her suspicion. How could he? How could they both betray her like this? The thought churned in her stomach like bitterness, twisting and biting at her insides until she thought she might be sick.

With trembling hands, trying to reach for the doorknob, Amber's pulse thundering in her ears. She needed to see it for herself, needed to confront them and demand answers. But before she could take another step. The world spun, a dizzying whirlwind of sensation and sound before everything went black, and she crumpled to the ground.

As soon as she woke up, Amber found herself in a strange room. A luxury hotel room, she guessed. The unfamiliar surroundings disoriented her further. Her head throbbed with a dull ache, a lingering reminder of her sudden collapse. Blinking away the remnants of sleep, she struggled to piece together the events that led her here.

Then, like a bolt of lightning, it hit her—the drink her stepmother had given her, the dizziness that followed, and the sudden darkness that swallowed her whole. Memories came back to her now. But it felt like there was more that she needed to remember.

"Did Valentina put sleeping pills on my drink?"

And then she heard it—the soft click of the door opening, the sound slicing through the silence. Amber's heart leaped into her throat as she turned, her eyes widening in shock as her stepmother stepped into the room, a knowing smirk playing at the corners of her lips.

"It's good that you've finally woken up," Valentina said, her voice dripping with false concern. "We have much to discuss, you and I."

Amber's blood ran cold at the sound of her stepmother's voice, the hairs on the back of her neck standing on end. "Valentina? Were you the one who brought me here?"

"Yes, I had someone bring you here since I knew you'd be stubborn to start working again," Valetina said sternly, her voice laced with contempt.

The weight of Valentina's words suffocates Amber with a sense of resignation and dread. She couldn't bear the thought of returning to that horrible club, couldn't stomach the idea of subjecting herself to the leering eyes and groping hands of those vile men again.

"No, I don't want to go back to the club," Amber pleaded.

"You do as I say," the evil stepmother said sternly.

As Amber looked into her stepmother's cold, unyielding gaze, she knew she had no choice. Her nephew, Chase's life depends on her. She needed funds to continue giving him treatments for his rare disease. She couldn't risk his health for the sake of her discomfort, no matter how much it tore her apart inside.

"What do you want from me now?" she muttered, her voice barely above a whisper.

But Valentina's expression remained impassive, her steely gaze unwavering. "You know what I want," she replied, her voice cold and clipped. "You work in the Casino, or there will be consequences."

Amber's jaw clenched in frustration, her fists balling at her sides. She wanted to scream, to lash out at the woman who had made her life a living hell, but she knew it would only make things worse. With a heavy heart, she nodded in reluctant acquiescence, hoping the work at the casino would be better than the club.

"Fine," Amber said, her voice tinged with defeat. "I'll do it."

Valentina's lips curled into a triumphant smile, her victory assured. "Good," she said, her voice dripping with satisfaction. "Now get up and change your clothes. You start tonight."

As Amber was dressed in a short skirt, she trailed behind Valentina, her heart pounding in her chest, she couldn't shake the sense of unease. The elevator ride felt endless, each floor they descended plunging her deeper into her fear.

Her fingers fumbled nervously with the hem of her skirt, tugging it down in a futile attempt to preserve what little remained of her dignity. She couldn't believe she was doing this, couldn't believe she had allowed herself to be dragged into yet another one of her stepmother's twisted schemes.

But as the elevator doors slid open to reveal a dimly lit corridor lined with heavy metal doors, Amber's confusion turned to outright disbelief. A casino in the basement of a luxury hotel? It didn't make any sense, not unless... "It is illegal," she muttered, her voice barely a whisper.

Her breath caught in her throat as they stepped into the huge space beyond, the noise of ringing slot machines and wild laughter assaulting her senses like a physical blow. It was a scene straight out of her worst nightmares, a den of vice and debauchery hidden beneath the veneer of respectability. The place was worse than the club she used to work in.

This wasn't just any casino—it was an illegal operation, a hellhole of corruption and crime lurking in the shadows of the city.

"Welcome, Mrs. Baldwin," said the old fat man as he proposed a handshake with Valentina.

"Thank you for inviting me here, Mr. Dickson," Valentina shook the old man's hand. "I brought you a gift. She'll start working tonight," she said, eyeing Amber standing by her side.

What? A gift? "I can't work here," Amber said quickly.

Amber's protests died on her lips as Valentina shot her a warning glance, a silent reminder of the stakes at play. She knew she had no choice, knew she couldn't risk Chase's life for the sake of her pride and safety.

"Interesting," Mr. Dickson remarked while lustfully licking his lips, looking at Amber. "My clients would love to have you here," he added with a wicked smirk on his lips.