Where Can I Read Sharing With Stepmom For Free?

Sequel of 'Set Me Free', hope everyone enjoys reading this book as much as they liked the previous one. “What is your name?” A deep voice of a man echoes throughout the poorly lit room. Daniel, who is cuffed to a white medical bed, can barely see anything. Small beads of sweat are pooling on his forehead due to the humidity and hot temperature of the room. His blurry vision keeps on roaming around the trying to find the one he has been looking for forever. Isabelle, the only reason he is holding on, all this pain he is enduring just so that he could see her once he gets out of this place. “What is your name?!” The man now loses his patience and brings up the electrodes his temples and gives him a shock. Daniel screams and throws his legs around and pulls on his wrists hard but it doesn’t work. The man keeps on holding the electrodes to his temples to make him suffer more and more importantly to damage his memories of her. But little did he know the only thing that is keeping Daniel alive is the hope of meeting Isabelle one day. “Do you know her?” The man holds up a photo of Isabelle in front of his face and stops the shocks. “Yes, she is my Isabelle.” A small smile appears on his lips while his eyes close shut.

My physics teacher held up my test paper with an 18-point score in front of all the students and parents and said, “Students like this are hopeless. I don’t even know how someone like this passed the high school entrance exam. “I didn’t think there was a way to cheat on the high school entrance exam, but it turns out there is. It gives people like this a chance to cheat.” He did not just insult my intelligence but also questioned my character and family. “Well, it’s not surprising. Only a junk-collecting family could raise a kid like this.” I curled up in my seat, too scared to say anything. But my stepmom could not stand it anymore. She smacked the chalk box off his desk, pointed at him, and yelled, “Who do you think you’re talking about?! “I send my kid to school and pay all the tuition and book fees! How did it turn into us being a junk-collecting family?! “You can’t even teach properly, and I haven’t called you out for it! Have you no shame?! You don’t deserve to be called a teacher! You’re just a piece of trash!” For some reason, she suddenly seemed imposing and heroic to me.

The Rowan estate has stood for centuries, its walls bearing witness to generations of triumph, tragedy, and a quiet, inescapable weight. Known for influence and misfortune, the Rowans guard a secret: the house is a memory vessel, absorbing the emotions and events of its inhabitants. Only one child per generation—“the one who carries it”—feels its imprint. For Jace Rowan, that child is him. Haunted by flashes of his brother Elias’s mysterious death in the sealed west wing, Jace lives with hallucination-like memories, déjà vu, and a physical sensitivity to the house’s presence. When Ava arrives at the estate, the house takes notice. Her father’s disappearance connects her unknowingly to the Rowans, and her grief fuels an emotional resonance the house cannot ignore. Objects from her past—her father’s watch, sketches of the west wing, and a brass key—materialize mysteriously before her, drawing Ava deeper into the estate’s labyrinth of memory. Jace knows the danger: the west wing reacts to emotion, and Ava’s connection could awaken truths meant to remain buried. As tension mounts, Ava and Jace confront both the house’s power and their own growing fears. The west wing does not seek to harm but to claim understanding—feeding on memory, fear, and revelation. In the shadows, a presence lingers, one that Jace fears is connected to Ava’s father. Bound by fear, curiosity, and an unspoken attraction, Ava and Jace must navigate a house that remembers, reacts, and judges, uncovering secrets about Elias’s death, Ava’s father, and the legacy of the Rowan family itself. In a world where emotion is power and the past is never truly gone, the house holds its breath—and waits to see who will survive its memory.

After confirming I was pregnant, I suddenly heard my husband’s inner voice. “This idiot is still gloating over her pregnancy. She doesn’t even know we switched out her IVF embryo. She’s nothing more than a surrogate for Elle. If Elle weren’t worried about how childbirth might endanger her life, I would’ve kicked this worthless woman out already. Just looking at her makes me sick. “Once she delivers the baby, I’ll make sure she never gets up from the operating table. Then I’ll finally marry Elle, my one true love.” My entire body went rigid. I clenched the IVF test report in my hands and looked straight at my husband. He gazed back at me with gentle eyes. “I’ll take care of you and the baby for the next few months, honey.” However, right then, his inner voice struck again. “I’ll lock that woman in a cage like a dog. I’d like to see her escape!” Shock and heartbreak crashed over me all at once because the Elle he spoke of was none other than my sister.

As I casually opened the online forum, a trending post at the top caught my eye. [Share the wildest thing you’ve ever done.] I clicked on the second comment, which seemed to contain just one line. [Without a doubt, it was the night before my buddy’s wedding when I had his wife come over for a “quality check.”] However, the poster kept adding to the thread. [That night, the woman tricked that idiot into thinking it was a bachelorette party, but she actually spent the whole night at my place. [She said she didn’t want to sleep with just one man forever and needed one last wild night before tying the knot. [By the end of the night, her throat was nearly raw from all the screaming. [We kept going until sunrise, right there in the wedding car her husband was supposed to pick her up later that day.] [Not only that, but even after they got married, this fool kept bringing his wife over to my place for dinner. [He’d help me in the kitchen while I pinned his wife against the fridge and kissed her. [He’d be glued to the game in the living room while his wife knelt in the bathroom and took care of me. [One time, when he passed out drunk on my couch, his wife and I had our own fun on the carpet beside him. [Every time he rolled over, we’d both jump. It was the thrill of knowing we could get caught at any moment.] The image loaded, revealing the familiar interior of the wedding car. The lucky charm I had given my wife dangled from the rearview mirror. My fingers momentarily stiffened, and I nearly dropped my phone. A wave of nausea rolled in my stomach as a chill crept up my spine. Just then, a hand appeared in my field of vision, waving in front of me. “Calvin, what are you zoning out for? You’re at my place, and you’re still on your phone. Come on. Dig in while it’s hot.” Wyatt Preston, my friend, grinned at me. Yet, his eyes kept straying toward my wife, Queenie Jennings, who was sitting beside me.

"Damn you, woman! How... you're my father's wife, how the hell are you still a virgin?" It was our wedding night, but instead of sharing a bed with my old, billionaire husband, I was rolling in cash. One million dollars—that was the price of my freedom, given to me just for marrying him. For a girl who used to survive on pennies, denying this offer would have been a sin. So, who cares if he’s old? I’m filthy rich now!