My Billionaire Stepmother and Seven Sisters

The weight of guilt had been suffocating, a constant pressure on my chest that I couldn't escape. Every waking moment, I felt it—an unbearable heaviness, knowing what I had done to my son. He had been my world once, before I let it all slip through my fingers. The past seemed like a cruel joke now, as I watched him so carefully loved by Emma and my daughters. Each time I saw him smile with them, I felt something inside of me crumble.

I should have been the one to care for him. That thought had haunted me ever since I realized the extent of what my son had been through while living with my brother's family. I was the one who had let him slip through my fingers, the one who had left him behind with people who didn't care for him the way he deserved. My son had suffered. And I had been too blind to see it.

As I stood in the doorway of our room, staring at my son curled up in Emma's arms, a pang of jealousy struck me. He was so safe, so peaceful in her arms. And it should have been me there. It should have been me tucking him in at night, playing with him, holding him when he needed comfort. But instead, I had been at my desk, drowning in the demands of my empire, while my wife and daughters did what I should have been doing all along.

Why couldn't I be the one? Why did they have all the time with him? Why did he fall asleep with her, not with me?

I stood frozen in place, my heart shattering bit by bit as I watched the two of them. Emma was gently stroking the protagonist's hair, her face soft with love. But for me, the moment was bittersweet. It was supposed to be me who took care of him. But I had failed.

In the dead of night, I slipped out of bed, unable to sleep, unable to stop the thoughts from consuming me. I walked softly down the hallway, my heart pounding in my chest. I needed to speak to her—Emma—and to the girls. I needed to apologize. I needed their help, even though I didn't know how to ask for it. I knocked softly on their doors, waking them up one by one. My voice was barely a whisper, but my words carried the weight of everything I had been keeping inside.

"Please, come downstairs," I said. "I need to talk to all of you. It's about our son."

The house was quiet, but I could feel the tension building. One by one, they arrived—Emma, my seven daughters, each of them looking at me with concern in their eyes. They could see that something was wrong.

Emma walked toward me first, her expression soft yet filled with worry. She took my hand gently, the warmth of her touch doing little to calm the storm raging inside me. "What is it, love?" she asked, her voice laced with kindness.

I swallowed hard, trying to steady my emotions. "I... I need your help," I confessed, my voice trembling slightly. "I... I've been so blinded by everything. I thought that if I worked hard enough, if I focused enough on business, I could make things better. But I haven't. I've failed him." I paused, my chest tightening. "The doctor... he said our son's health is fragile. I didn't tell you earlier. I didn't want to burden you, but... if he's stressed, if he feels sad, it could hurt him. He could go into a coma or worse."

The words hung in the air, thick with the reality of what I had kept hidden. Emma's face paled, her hand moving to her mouth in shock. "What... What do you mean?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

I looked at the daughters, seeing their eyes widen with the weight of the news. They didn't know this. I hadn't told them how badly things had gone, how much damage had been done to our son's spirit.

"He was beaten. Every day. By my brother's family," I said, my voice cracking. "I never knew. I never knew what he was going through, and now... now he's afraid to love. Afraid to trust me. Afraid to be happy."

The room was silent, and I could see the shock, the heartbreak in their eyes. Emma's tears started to fall, her hand reaching out to touch mine. "Oh my God," she whispered, choking on her grief. "Why didn't you tell me? Why didn't you tell us sooner?"

"I thought... I thought if I told you, you wouldn't love him. That maybe you wouldn't accept him as your own," I said, my voice barely audible, my shame overwhelming. "But now I see how much you all care for him. How much you all love him... and it breaks my heart, because I didn't give him that love. I didn't protect him."

Emma reached for me, her hands gently pulling me into her arms. She held me tight, her voice soft but firm. "You're here now," she said. "You've always been his father, and we've always known that you loved him, even when you didn't know how to show it. We're not blaming you. But now... now we all need to work together. We need to heal him, and we need to heal you, too."

My daughters nodded in unison, their eyes filled with compassion. "We'll help you," Sophia said, her voice steady. "We'll help you get closer to him. We'll do whatever it takes. He's our brother, and we love him. You're his father. We need you to be strong, to fight for him."

I looked at them, tears welling up in my eyes. They were giving me a chance. A chance to make things right.

"I need your help," I whispered again, this time with a pleading tone. "I need you all to help me be the father he deserves. I want to show him that I can love him, that I can be there for him. But I can't do it alone."

Emma nodded, wiping away her tears. "We'll all help you. We'll make sure he never feels neglected again."

And then, in a voice so gentle it almost broke me, she added, "But... there's one thing you have to promise me, love. Promise that when I want to play with him, when I want to spend time with him, you won't stop me. You'll let me have those moments with him, just as you want your own."

I hesitated, my pride pushing back for a moment, but then I realized—this wasn't about me anymore. It wasn't about my jealousy. It was about him, about our son. And so, I promised her.

"I promise," I whispered. "I won't stop you. I'll share him with you, with all of you. We'll all be there for him, together."

The room was filled with a sense of unity, a bond forged through pain and love. We were a family, and together, we would protect our son. No more jealousy, no more regrets. Just love.

And in that moment, I finally felt like a father again.