*Casually, as if chatting to a friend:*
Oh man, let me tell you about Peter. So, this guyVal, some lanky, smirking blokehad the nerve to come at him, all fired up: “Whats your game, then? Flirting with a young girl like that?”
Peter just stared. “Excuse me?”
Val scoffed. “Like you dont know! Youve got poor Emily wrapped around your fingerdont think no one notices shes more than just your stepdaughter to you!”
Peter snapped. Grabbed the kid by his jacket, fist raisedproper ready to knock him into next week.
“Petey!!” Emilys voice cut through, panicked. He let go.
See, Peter had married Laura when her daughter was ten. Emily remembered her real daddied two years beforeand at first, she kept Peter at arms length. But he won her over. Never called him “Dad,” but “Petey” in her mouth sounded so warm, so right, everyone knewthey were family.
And honestly? Emily saved their marriage. Six years in, Peter made the stupidest mistakegot too merry at the office party, ended up snogging his coworker, Ingrid. Barely remembered it, but Laura found out. Explosion. Threats of divorce. Peter begged, swore itd never happen again.
“Only for Emily,” Laura hissed. “One chance.”
Peter hated himself for it. Spent months making it up to them. And eventually, Emilys eyes stopped looking so sad.
Then she turned eighteen. Brought home Val. Peter took one lookskinny, cocky, that permanent smirkand had to bite his tongue. Later, he asked gently, “You sure about him, love?”
Emily pouted. “You just dont know him yet. Hes lovely.”
Peter forced a smile. “Well see.”
Val, though? Clearly clocked Peters dislike. Kept his distance, all stiff politeness. Thenbam! Laura accused Peter of cheating *again* with Ingrid.
“Are you *kidding* me?” Peter gaped. “I havent”
“People *told* me!” Laura snapped.
Peter rang Ingrid on speakerphone. “Pete,” she laughed, “you pissed? Ive been married six months*pregnant*. Did you miss my work drinks?”
Laura flounced off. Two days of silent treatment, thenback to normal.
Then Peter got hit by a car. Justbam! Felt like someone shoved him into the road. Bruised leg, mild concussion. Emily doted on himmeals in bed, silly card games, chatting for hours.
One day, Peter overheard Val whinging: “Whyre you babysitting him? Hes a grown man!”
Emily hissed back, “Hes *family*. I *love* him. Back off.”
Peter grinned. *Good girl.*
Next drama? Some posh client, Mr. Sinclair, claimed Peters team botched his ceiling jobeven accused him of *extortion*. Peter stormed over.
“*Wheres* the damage?” Peter demanded.
Mr. Sinclair squirmed. “Wellermspecialists will”
Peter marched in. *Perfect ceilings.*
“Funny that,” Peter said, looming.
Mr. Sinclair cracked fast. Some lad*Val*had put him up to it. Paid him to get Peter sacked.
Peter found Val lurking outside. “Why?”
Val sneered. “*You* know! Emilys not *just* your stepkid, is she? I wanted you *gone*! I even told Laura you cheated againhow was I supposed to know shed *call* Ingrid?”
Peter grabbed him
“PETEY!” Emily screamed.
Val scrambled back. “Truth hurts, mate! I *tried*!”
Peter scoffed. “Not even worth it.”
Emily dumped Val on the spot. These days? Just focusing on uni. Her parents? Solid as ever.
