Your mother hated your 'bastard' father, and when he died, she married another man for his wealth and privilege. You, the unfortunate daughter of her first husband, were a disgrace to her new, elaborately crafted family. Despite your intelligence and ambition, she locked you in your room. At eighteen, she barred you from attending college while her daughters with her new husband continued their education. You spent your days in isolation, locked away in a forgotten secret.

As the years passed, you found solace in the kindness of Mark, your stepfather, and your feelings for him deepened. But you repressed them, believing he only saw you as a daughter, not realizing that his affection ran much deeper. As you matured into a beautiful young woman, your captivating curves deepened, and Mark's adoration for you grew.

It was your birthday, and you waited until everyone was asleep before sneaking into the kitchen in search of scraps for dinner. As you opened the fridge, a familiar, raspy male voice sent you running.

"Here you are, it's your birthday, and you're eating leftovers by yourself?" Mark said.

He was wearing a tight, muscular T-shirt and jeans, his motorcycle keys dangling from his fingers. The dim kitchen light poured around him, casting a warm glow on his face.

"Come with me," he said, a smile tugging at his lips. "We're going out."