Today was a happy day. Or so it seemed.
The weather was pleasant. Not too hot. Not too cold. The house smelled of incense sticks and fresh food. Plastic chairs were stacked by the wall, a few relatives were already on speakerphone, and the kitchen buzzed with the sound of boiling tea.
Today was the wedding anniversary of Roman's father and his stepmother.
Everyone looked cheerful.
Even Roman.
He smiled quietly as he was sitting inside his bedroom, scrolling through his phone. But behind that mild smile, something darker simmered.
Because today wasn't just an anniversary.
Today was the day Roman would break this family apart.
---
Roman came downstairs just before breakfast, dressed plainly — t-shirt and jeans. His stepbrother was already at the dining table eating poha and scrolling through reels.
Normally, Roman would head straight to the kitchen and grab his breakfast without saying a word.
But today, he walked into the living room, where his father was sitting with a newspaper and a glass of water.
Roman stood a few steps away and said, "Happy anniversary, Dad."
His father looked up, surprised for a moment. Roman rarely wished him for anything.
"Thank you," his father replied, giving a small smile. "You remembered."
Roman nodded and walked into the kitchen.
His stepmother was standing near the gas burners, giving instructions to the maid. She turned around when she noticed him.
"Happy anniversary," Roman said.
She froze — just for a second. Not that anyone else noticed.
Roman had never wished her before. Not in the years they'd lived together. Not once.
"Uh… thank you, son," she said, recovering quickly. She smiled, but Roman noticed the stiffness in her face.
His stepbrother looked up from the table. A little surprised, but not enough to care. He figured Roman was just being polite for once.
No one questioned it.
No one saw the flicker in Roman's eyes.
Or the faint curl on his lips.
---
His father left for the office a little after 10, dressed in his usual tucked-in shirt and formal shoes.
A regular day.
Roman's stepmother spent the rest of the morning preparing for the evening. It wasn't a grand party, just a small celebration with family, a few close friends, and some neighbors. She ordered snacks from the local caterer and decorators to help with decorations. Balloons were inflated. A designed cake was ordered.
She ordered the maid to cleaned the photo frames in the living room — the one with her and Roman's father on their wedding day still sat in the center of the cabinet.
---
"By 7:30 in the evening, the guests had started to arrive. Roman, playing the role of the responsible eldest son, stood at the entrance—smiling, polite, and charming as ever—welcoming each one of them like a gracious host. But beneath that warm smile… something far darker stirred."
Roman's father returned from the office, his face calm, showing little surprise at the celebration waiting for him. As relatives and friends offered their congratulations, he responded with polite nods and a practiced smile.
Meanwhile, Roman stepped forward, ever the dutiful son, and gently guided his father toward the center of the stage—where a grand, beautifully decorated cake stood beneath the glow of warm lights, waiting to be cut.
Roman's father glanced around, then leaned toward his son and asked, "Where's your stepmother?"
Roman offered a calm smile. "She's still getting ready," he said smoothly. "Wants to look perfect for you tonight."
A faint warmth touched his father's face, the corners of his lips lifting in quiet satisfaction.
Roman watched him closely, his own smile lingering—harmless on the surface, but laced with something else entirely.
A few minutes later, the lights began to dim, casting the room in a hushed twilight. Soft murmurs faded as a single spotlight clicked on—at the centre of the stage.
There stood Roman, tall and composed, a microphone in his hand.
His gaze swept across the room, and for a moment, the air felt heavier—like the calm before a storm.
They assumed he'd give a short speech. Something sweet. But they were wrong.
What came next, no one expected.
Roman took out his phone, connect to the projector and tapped the screen.
"I found this a few weeks ago," he said.
A video began to play,on the projector.
People leaned in.
Confused at first.
Then shocked.
The video was shaky, but clear enough.
His stepmother — sitting on the lap of a man that wasn't her husband.
Laughing. Touching sexually. Familiar in a way no married woman should be with someone else.
The video ended in silence.
Roman looked around. "That's from last month. Not the first time either."
Gasps. Whispers.
His father stood frozen, eyes locked on the projector screen.
But the main culprit his wife still wasn't around to witness it.
Roman didn't raise his voice. He didn't need to.
"She's been taking money from Dad's business account too," he added, scrolling through screenshots. "Transferred to her cousin's firm. Multiple times."
A neighbor tried to say something, but stopped.
Roman's father stood frozen, his eyes wide with disbelief, as the truth unfolded before him like a cruel joke. He looked around in desperation, scanning the faces in the crowd—but the one he needed to see, the one responsible, was nowhere in sight.
His wife… was not there.
Roman stepped forward slightly, his voice calm—almost gentle—as he spoke into the microphone.
"Looking for your wife, Father?"
He paused, letting the silence settle before continuing with a faint, mocking smile.
"Well… I believe she's in your room. Waiting for you.
You should go. Ask her why she did this to you."
His tone never wavered—but the sting behind his words was sharp enough to draw blood.
Roman's father rushed toward his room, his steps hurried and uneven, heart pounding with a dread he couldn't explain. A few guests followed behind, driven by curiosity, their whispers trailing in the hallway.
He reached the door, hand trembling as he reached for the handle—
And then he froze.
So did everyone else.
A sound slipped through the door. Soft at first. A moan.
Then another—louder, raw, and unmistakable.
The sounds grew, louder in hunger and lust, like a dam breaking and spilling shame into the air.
Gasps rippled through the small crowd behind him.
Roman's father stood paralyzed, his hand still on the doorknob, as the truth screamed louder than any words ever could.
Still, he steadied his breath and tried to calm the storm inside his chest. She must be watching something... maybe an erotic film, he told himself, clinging to denial like a lifeline. Yes, that's all it is. It has to be.
With trembling fingers, he unlocked the door and pushed it open.
What he saw shattered that illusion instantly.
There she was—his wife—naked and on all fours, her body moving in rhythm beneath a younger man who was mercilessly thrusting into her from behind.
She moaned like a slut,a crazy bitch, completely lost in the moment, oblivious to the open door… and the husband standing there, watching his world fall apart.
And then he saw the young man behind her.
At first, it was just a face in motion—blurred by shock and disbelief. But as his eyes adjusted and the truth came into focus, a cold wave surged through his veins.
He knew that face.
He knew him.
And in that instant, it was as if his very soul was ripped from his body. His breath caught in his throat, a silent scream stuck behind parted lips.
Reality crashed down like a collapsing world—merciless, brutal, unforgiving.**
It was his step son.
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Author's Pov:-
So what did you all think, mc is merciless right? Well this novel is only for the bravest of hearts.
Don't think that some sweet girl or woman will come and change mc for good .
That will never happen.