Yandere Step-Mom-Chapter 44: Kiana?

"No," Liend said again, his eyes locked on Kiana—seeking and receiving reassurance. Her hand gently caressed his. It gave him courage.

"You heard me, Rissa," he said, voice firmer now.

"You listened right."

There was a pause.

"Liend..." Rissa’s voice trembled on the other end.

"You must be—" she faltered, struggling to grasp words.

"You’re not... right. Are you under some kind of influence?"

She needed something—anything—to explain it away.

But Liend shook his head.

"No, Rissa. I’m in my right mind," he said.

"Never been more clear."

Kiana’s hand still soothed him gently, her presence calm, grounding. In the silence that followed, a shift began—realization dawning in Rissa’s voice.

Then came the snap.

"Liend!" she yelled, her tone cracking, shrill and sharp now.

"You must be out of your goddamn mind," she snapped.

"If you think you can ignore my calls for one day and then suddenly say you’re not in the mood to continue this relationship..."

Her voice shook—but now with anger.

"What is this?" Rissa snapped.

"You find some girl last night, like her so much, and now you’re just—what? Breaking up out of nowhere?"

Her voice rose sharply—furious.

"You bastard."

"Rissa—" Liend started, but she cut him off.

"No. You listen to me, you selfish, two-faced—" her voice shook with rage.

"You’ve got to be kidding me if you think I’d let you screw me for years and then just walk away one night like it meant nothing."

She was nearly screaming now.

"Stay right there."

"I’m coming. I’ll be there in less than an hour."

Click.

"Rissa—"

Beep. Beep.

The call ended.

Liend slowly lowered the phone, his hand trembling. He looked toward Kiana, voice small.

"...Mom."

His eyes glistened—one tear already slipping down his cheek.

He didn’t want this. Not like this.

Kiana watched him, quiet. Her expression unreadable. Liend stood there, shaken, struggling to understand what he’d just done—and what came next.

"I..." Liend whispered.

"I didn’t want to... do this."

His voice was thin, cracking.

"I didn’t."

"Liend..." Kiana returned gently, her eyes settling on him.

"She’s never... used words like that," he muttered, shaken.

"I’ve never heard her speak that way before..."

Kiana looked at him—reading the hurt in his face. Her hand moved to his, caressing softly, trying to ease the tension from his trembling fingers.

"It’ll be okay," she said softly.

Liend turned to her, eyes low, wet with confusion and guilt.

"What do I say to her, Mom?" he asked.

"If she asks why... what do I say?"

He swallowed.

"Do I tell her... that I want to be with you?"

His voice broke on the last word.

"With my own mom...?"

Kiana slowly brushed her hand over his, then shifted—gently lifting herself as she sat fully into the tub.

"No, Liend," she said softly.

"Clearly not."

She paused, then added, her gaze steady but tender:

"I mean... I’d be happy. Very happy, if you did."

Her eyes met his again, calm, yet carrying the same complicated truth that hung between them.

"But I’m sure this isn’t how you want it to go... right?" Kiana asked softly.

Liend nodded, slowly.

"It’s hard to leave her... but now, with her coming here..." he hesitated, voice thin.

"I don’t know if I could say it again"

Kiana reached out, pulling him gently into her—her hand brushing over his hair with care.

"You don’t have to, child," she whispered.

"Mom’s here... to take care of it. All of it."

She smiled at him, tender, calm.

"I promise,"

Her fingers ran through his hair again, soothing.

"Just go to bed. Everything will be fine."

She leaned in close, her voice soft in his ear.

"Mommy will take care of it... okay?"

Liend looked at her, torn—his body leaning in, but his mind still pulled elsewhere.

"But she’s..." he started, voice trailing—Rissa, already out there, possibly minutes away.

Kiana shook her head gently, still wearing that serene, comforting smile.

"Don’t worry," she whispered, caressing his face with both hands.

"Let Mommy handle it."

"Mommy’ll take care of it," Kiana said with a gentle smile.

"Now go... get some sleep. It’s almost two already."

Liend looked back at her—still unsure, hesitant, but her words—reassuring. Slowly, he nodded and pulled away, heading toward the door.

"Make sure you take the pills," Kiana reminded him.

"Before sleep... and again after you wake up."

"Alright," Liend murmured, not turning back, his voice distant as he disappeared down the hall.

He climbed the stairs to his room in silence.

Back in the bathroom, Kiana sighed.

Her legs trembled slightly as she stood, bracing herself against the side of the tub. She pushed herself upright, stepping out carefully onto the floor. Her body ached—from the pain, from the weight of everything that’d happened earlier the night.

She didn’t take a full shower—just quietly cleaned herself where Liend had entered her, wiping away the sticky patches of his release slowly.

Once done, she stepped to the side and picked up her robe—folded neatly.

Slipping it on, she exhaled—a slow, tired sigh.

"Now..." Kiana exhaled, her voice low.

She stepped forward slowly, legs still heavy beneath her. Her hands pressed against the doorframe as she pulled it closed behind her with a soft click.

Crossing into her room, then out into the dim living room, she moved with quiet purpose. The air was still.

Her eyes landed on the phone—resting on the edge of the table.

She picked it up, dialing a number—fingers moving without hesitation.

It rang.

She held the phone to her ear.

"Ren?" she said softly.

"Oh... this late at night?" came the voice on the other end—smooth, mildly amused.

"To what do I owe the pleasure of hearing from you at such an hour, my lady?"

"I need a job done," Kiana said flatly, her eyes now cold with focus, one hand gripping the edge of the table.

"W—" the voice began, but she cut in.

"Twenty," she said firmly.

"All your fees go on my tab. Twenty for the job."

"Twen—" he tried again, but she was faster.

"Now. It’s urgent."

"But—"

"I’ll pay some extra," she added without hesitation.

She swiped quickly through her screen, locating what she needed.

"I just sent the address."

Her voice was flat, final.

"I don’t want any mistakes."

"Now—?"

Beep. Beep.

The call cut.

"Ugh!" the man on the other end groaned, letting the phone slip from his hand as he fell back into the couch, rubbing his temples at the message.

"We’ve got a job," he muttered, staring at the ceiling.

The others in the room looked up, reacting slowly.

"What’s new about that?" one of them asked casually, his hand resting lazily on the head of someone bobbing beneath him.

"We always get that," another added, disinterested.

"No." Ren cut in sharply, fingers pressing hard into his temples.

"This one’s tight. The window’s short."

He looked around at them, eyes narrowed.

"We’ve got maybe half an hour. Tops."

"What?" The guy on the sofa straightened suddenly, alert.

"We can’t—" he started

"Too many risks...".

Ren exhaled sharply, fingers pressing against his temples as he leaned forward, elbows on knees.

"We can’t reject it," he muttered, voice low and frustrated.

"Why not?" someone asked lazily.

"We’re the organizers, not someone’s personal crew," he voiced from the side.

"Just tell them it can’t be done."

He then gestured toward a woman nearby.

"Go on, sweetheart—open up. That’s right," he added with a smirk, patting her head.

"Good girl."

He eased back, voice dipping lower as his hand guided her down, fully distracted.

Ren turned sharply, patience wearing thin.

"What the hell are you doing, Henry?"

Henry barely looked up, hand still resting atop the girl’s head, his attention clearly elsewhere.

Ren stood, voice hardening.

"We don’t have time for this."

"Calm down, Ren," someone said from the side, eyeing him casually.

"You’re getting worked up over nothing."

He leaned back with a shrug.

"Honestly, I thought you’d be a little more composed—seeing as you’re one of the founders."

A sigh.

"Guess I judged you wrong."

Ren snapped.

"You idiots!" he shouted, standing sharply.

"Thirty minutes! And it’s the goddamn Queenpin!"

The room fell still. The weight of the word—landing heavy.