My Stepsister’s Dad

  Terri Anne Browning

  Copyright © Terri Anne Browning/Anna Henson 2024

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of Terri Anne Browning, except as permitted under the US Copyright Act of 1976.

  My Stepsister’s Dad

  Written by Terri Anne Browning

  All Rights Reserved ©Terri Anne Browning 2024

  Edited by Lisa Hollett of Silently Correcting Your Grammar

  10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

  My Stepsister’s Dad is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  No part of this book can be reproduced in any form by electronic or mechanical means, including storage or retrieval systems, without the express permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer who may quote short excerpts in a review.

  Contents

  My Stepsister’s Dad

  1. Amelia

  2. Amelia

  3. Amelia

  4. Amelia

  5. Amelia

  6. Trevor

  7. Amelia

  8. Trevor

  9. Amelia

  10. Amelia

  11. Trevor

  12. Trevor

  13. Amelia

  14. Amelia

  15. Trevor

  16. Amelia

  17. Trevor

  18. Amelia

  19. Trevor

  20. Amelia

  Epilogue

  My Stepsister’s Dad

  My existence is a ’90s sitcom punch line.

  My dad and stepmom were college sweethearts who were on a break.

  That’s where I—and my stepsister—come in.

  Dad had a drunken night with a sorority girl, my mom, and knocked her up.

  My stepmother, Sarah, had her own hookup that produced a plus sign on a little plastic stick.

  There was no denying I was my father’s daughter.

  But they had to wait on the paternity test for Sarah’s baby, which ultimately showed my dad was not the father.

  Dad and Sarah worked things out. My stepsister, Elsa, got two dads because hers stepped up and wanted to be a part of his kid’s life.

  And I got a front-row seat as my dad showed, with Elsa, how a man was supposed to treat his little girl, while I had to survive off the scraps of affection he tossed my way.

  Then, on a night out while I was trying to escape the suffocating loneliness of home, I met Trevor.

  Older.

  Hot.

  My savior.

  We had one night together before I woke up alone in his house.

  And found pictures of him with his arm around my stepsister.

  Because Trevor wasn’t just the guy who gave me the best night of my life.

  He was my stepsister’s dad.

  Chapter 1

  Amelia

  When the big, thick envelope with the name of your number one college choice showed up, it was supposed to be a celebration.

  Instead, I held the heavy piece of mail like it was a ticking time bomb, checking over my shoulder and glancing around my surroundings as I walked through the mansion to my bedroom in hopes of not being discovered. A feeling of dread filled my stomach, afraid that the residents of the house might actually pay attention to me the one time I very much did not want to be noticed.

  Do not act suspicious, Lia.

  If Gran had found the acceptance package before I did, it very well might have become an explosive device, detonated by my grandmother’s temper. My fingers trembled at the near miss, and the last conversation I’d had with Gran about school replayed in my mind while I kept my head ducked low and tried not to sprint to my bedroom.

  “If you expect me to pay for your education, you’ll be going to the university your ancestors attended,” Gran announced over breakfast when I’d mentioned sending off my applications and essays to the top three schools on my list.

  “I don’t expect anything from you, Gran,” I assured her. After eighteen years of being let down by everyone, I was resigned to having no expectations of anyone—especially not my family.

  I didn’t tell her that I had received scholarships I would be presented with at the awards ceremony for school at the end of April. Invitations had already been sent out, but my dad and stepmother hadn’t mentioned it, and neither had Gran. Which, from experience, told me they wouldn’t be attending with me. I wasn’t surprised. Every spring when it was time for the end-of-term scholar awards at my private school, they never showed up. A driver always took me, waited in the parking lot, and then drove me back. All my certificates, plaques, and trophies in hand, I would return home, where the only person who congratulated me was the butler and, on a few occasions, other house staff with grim smiles. Once, I’d gotten a hug from the matron house manager.

  Proof of my accomplishments went into a tote in the deepest corner of my walk-in closet behind the evening gowns that never got worn but still were replaced each season. Sarah, my stepmother, would have had a coronary if she’d inspected my options for events I never attended with the family and found something that wasn’t current couture.

  “You’ll be attending Yale, which every other Durst has graduated from for almost three hundred years. You will get your MBA in business, and if you still have an interest in continuing your education, I might agree to allow you to attend law school,” she went on in that regal voice that echoed with finality, looking down her nose at me from across the dining room table as she lifted her delicate cup of tea. “And if you get any wild ideas to enroll elsewhere, little miss, you won’t be getting assistance from our bank accounts.”

  Remaining quiet, because that was what was expected of me or I would be accused of back-talking, I sipped my freshly squeezed orange juice, trying to ignore the noise in the back of my mind screaming at the woman across from me that I didn’t need her stupid fucking blood money anyway. I could make my way on my own. And business? Law school? Yuck. Who wanted to study business or law when there was an entire world of medical science that was far superior to stupid business courses.

  But she must have sensed something—that grumpy old hag always could sniff out any kind of secret. Not that my educational choices were a secret. I simply didn’t mention them anymore since no one ever paid attention when I spoke in this house anyway.

  “It’s Yale or nothing, Amelia. If you decide not to follow Durst tradition, then there will be no Durst funds waiting for you when you, as they say, crash and burn. Don’t expect to come crying back to me when you end up broke and homeless.”

  Having learned to hide every emotion from her and any other member of my family, I lifted my chin and gave her the nod I knew she was expecting. “Yes, Gran,” I murmured, so meek and demure, just as she and Sarah expected.

  While internally, I was shouting and throwing verbal vitriol at the Durst matriarch. Clarissa Durst ruled my family with an iron hand, one I was all too happy to climb out from under when I gleefully drove away from this hellhole disguised as a centuries-old mansion and the money that had come from others’ sweat, tears, and blood. Like my father, my paternal ancestors wouldn’t have known what hard work was if it bit them on the ass.

  That had been the end of any college discussions. At least where I was concerned. My stepsister, Elsa, had been harping away on her own choices for weeks now, excitedly awaiting the arrival of her own acceptance letters. Always bringing up the topic with spiteful glee in her amber eyes as she and her mother discussed Elsa’s options every chance they got.

  Gran never participated in those conversations, however. Elsa’s education would be paid for by her father, not mine. Her dad paid her private school tuition at the same school I attended. Otherwise, even though Elsa had lived in the Durst house just as long as I had, she would have been in the local public school system. Durst money paid for Durst blood, which Elsa very much did not possess.

  I might have felt sympathy for Elsa if she hadn’t made it her life’s mission to be my personal tormentor.

  Pressing the envelope to my chest, I closed my eyes as a smile finally teased at my lips. Skipping the last few steps into my room, I shut and locked my door before going into the closet and repeating the action then folding my legs beneath me and carefully opening the top of the envelope. Turning it upside down, I had to suppress a giggle as my future spilled into my lap.

  It was the acceptance letter, congratulating me on my admission to Harvard and their premed program. After I read the letter twice, still in awe at having my dreams at my fingertips, I picked up the next most important piece of information in the packet. My scholarship details. Energy zinged through me as my eyes ate up the words. With this, plus the other scholarships I already knew I was receiving, I wouldn’t need a single penny of Durst money to pay for school.

  I could focus all my energy on my classes without worrying about working to pay for my basic needs.

  Chapter 2

  Amelia

  After looking through the rest of the contents, I carefully placed them all back inside the envelope and hid it in one of my older totes full of scholar awards. Elsa had a bad habit of snooping through my things, stealing articles of clothing from my closet, thinking I would be u
pset that she was wearing whatever outfit her mother had bought for me.

  It always drove her a little mental when I didn’t call her out on it. But the truth was, I didn’t know about her theft until she mentioned it. Jeans and a T-shirt were all I needed outside of my school uniform. All the designer clothes Sarah filled my closet with were wasted on me.

  Elsa wouldn’t look through my totes, though. My accomplishments tended to leave her feeling inferior, and heaven forbid that Elsa Pearson ever be anything but perfect.

  Once everything was back in its exact place, I opened the door to my bedroom. It was almost time for dinner, and if anyone was late, Gran wouldn’t be pleased.

  As I stepped out of my room, I heard a scream from downstairs. After eighteen years, I knew Elsa’s theatrics well enough to know that the sound she’d just made was one of genuine distress.

  Running downstairs, I came to an abrupt stop when I saw Elsa holding a letter-sized piece of paper. She was crying so hard, she didn’t make sense as she attempted to tell her mother and my dad what was wrong. Snot bubbled out of her nose as she hiccupped and stuttered out each word. Elsa was beautiful with her pale blond hair and those amber eyes. But she was not a pretty crier.

  My father’s arms went around her when she finally got it all out, but I hadn’t been able to make sense of anything she’d said. From the confusion on Sarah’s face, she hadn’t either, so she snatched the paper from her daughter’s hands. Her eyes widened as she read, but then her shoulders slumped.

  “Another rejection letter,” she muttered, her tone more annoyed than sad, as Dad gently rocked Elsa soothingly. “This one from NYU.”

  I bit my lips together to hold back my laugh. That wouldn’t have gone over well, and honestly, it was beneath me to find amusement in someone else’s distress. But Elsa had built up an account with karma, and it looked like she was finally getting a little payback for all the crap she’d put me through our entire lives.

  “This is the last one,” Elsa’s mother said with a shake of her blond head, an older but still beautiful replica of her daughter except for her eyes. Sarah’s were a shade of blue I’d never truly been able to describe. Mundane was as close as I could come. She attempted to hide her emotions, but those ordinary blue eyes never quite masked what she was feeling.

  Gran used it against her every chance she got, which always led to some blowup between her and my father. If Gran had a hobby, it was making Sarah’s life as miserable as possible. Which was only further evidence of the whole nurture over nature theory. Elsa acted so much like Gran, it was fair that most strangers thought that Elsa was the Durst heir and not me.

  But while we might share the same birthday, we weren’t sisters. Not a single drop of blood was shared between us, a fact that Gran often reminded Elsa and Sarah of.

  Dad and Sarah had been college sweethearts, but for a short period, they took a break. Dad had a drunken hookup with my mom, who had been one of Sarah’s sorority sisters. That same week, Sarah had a one-night stand with Elsa’s father.

  Dad and Sarah got back together soon after, so when Sarah found out she was pregnant, everyone held their breath until they could determine paternity.

  Meanwhile, my mother, Cassie, showed up at Dad’s door, showing him the ultrasound of me growing in her belly. There was no question who the father was. Even as drunk as my father had been, he’d been the first to admit that Cassie had been a virgin when they’d had sex. Cassie wasn’t up for motherhood, though, and Gran wasn’t about to let her grandchild be raised by strangers.

  After giving birth to me, Cassie signed away all her parental rights, took the nice fat check Gran handed her, and went back to school. Other than her sending me a birthday card every year and an impersonal present for Christmas—that I was sure her assistant bought—I had no contact with the woman who gave birth to me. Her life revolved around her career.

  I couldn’t fault her on that choice. If I could choose between having to deal with Jacob Durst on a regular basis and work, I would pick work too.

  “Pearson’s name isn’t enough to get her into a school?” Dad asked, keeping his voice low as he rocked Elsa against him. “Didn’t he offer them money?”

  “Elsa refused to tell him about her school choices. And she was adamant that she could get in on her own. All he said was to let him know where to send the check.” Sarah grimaced, regret filling her eyes, along with disappointment.

  Despite growing up side by side with Elsa, I’d never met her father before. His first name wasn’t even allowed to be uttered in front of my dad. Elsa rarely went to visit him, and he wasn’t welcome in the Durst home. Dad was jealous of him and not solely because he’d had sex with Sarah. Elsa was Dad’s daughter in his heart, and it ate at him whenever he remembered that she was another man’s child biologically.

  He spoiled Elsa with any and everything she could ever want. His time and affection were reserved for her and Sarah.

  I was the interloper in this house, the annoying, unwanted guest.

  Elsa preferred my father to her own. She even called him “Daddy,” which always caused Gran to roll her eyes.

  Sarah glanced around, her eyes not seeming to see me standing at the foot of the stairs. No one except for Gran, on occasion, ever saw me, even when I was standing right in front of them. They all looked through me, as if I weren’t there. As if I were a transparent, silent ghost who haunted the Durst estate.

  Lowering her voice, she hissed at her husband just loud enough to be heard over her daughter’s continued sobs. “Do you think you could…?”

  Torment filled my father’s face. “You know I can’t. Mother made her decision on that very plain. If I try to go against her on this, who knows what repercussions we will have to face.”

  Not even for his beloved Sarah and Elsa would he fight his own mother. Her word was law, unless he wanted to end up out of the house, lose all access to his accounts, and—heaven forbid—have to actually work for a living. Sarah was just as anxious about potentially stirring the pot when it came to her mother-in-law as her husband, but she would if it meant giving her only child what she wanted.

  “But Elsa hasn’t gotten into a single university, Jake. How will we—”

  “How about a trip to Paris?” Dad soothed, cutting Sarah off and looking down at Elsa with all the affection I’d never experienced.

  Elsa’s sobs abruptly stopped, her flow of tears drying up in an instant. “P-Paris? When, Daddy?”

  Dad beamed at her, relief filling his eyes now that she was calming down. “The entire weekend. I’ll have Charles start making the arrangements right now. The jet can leave first thing tomorrow morning. You can skip school on Monday and…”

  I stopped listening and walked past the three of them. No one even glanced at me, too focused on soothing Elsa’s heartbreak from another college rejection. My stepsister got to go to Paris because she was rejected from all the schools she’d applied to. And I had to hide the fact that I’d been accepted into one of the top schools in the country.

  Pressing a hand to the center of my chest, I shook my head, refusing to allow the hurt, the ache of loneliness, to fester. A few more months. That was all I had to wait before I graduated from high school and could disappear. Not that anyone would miss me.

  Not even Gran.

  Except when it was time for me to go off to Yale. And then she’d finally remember me, and I was sure a manhunt would ensue.

  Chapter 3

  Amelia

  Sarah and Elsa had left before dawn with my dad so they could get to the private airport where the Durst family jet was being fueled. Solitude, my constant companion, made my chest squeeze as I ate breakfast alone. My grandmother, as she did every Saturday morning, went to brunch with a small group of her friends.

  Why I was letting Elsa going to Paris for a long weekend get to me, I didn’t have a clue. It wasn’t like this was anything new. My dad and stepmother took Elsa on trips all the time, and I was never invited. Vacations weren’t something I had experience with. Gran never went anywhere, and even if she did, I doubted she would ask me to join her. But I promised myself that once I finished my residency and had my own practice, I would take a long break on some Caribbean island.