God-Father's Obsession: I Became My Ex's Stepmother

　　Joann's Pov

　　"Grayford, please?" I urged the taxi man. Got in and the drive lasted twenty minutes. I had an interview at the most recognized industry. The Sanchez group firm and industry. My excitement was next level as to when Steven proposed to me.

　　I was going to submit my design drafts and long term projects done with other small firms. I hoped to be chosen. Arriving at the company, I walked in quickly. Signed in and got called in for the interview. It was supposed to be at least ten minutes, but…

　　I sat across from the panel, my legs crossed, my fingers intertwined tightly on my lap, but my face? Calm and confident. I had done this a hundred times in the mirror, answered all the practice questions, nailed the body language. And now, everything was falling into place.

　　I tried to not look scared, and presented my drafts as they asked.

　　"These look so nice. Are you sure these designs are yours?" One of the interviewers asked.

　　I nodded, "Yes. I spent nights on them. Also, I love creating new designs. I get my inspiration, except the firm gives me a prompt."

　　"How do you think you can handle your team management, Miss Fisher?"

　　"Well, I've never had a team but I trust myself enough to not overlook the things that should be done at the correct time."

　　I smiled, already getting nervous. I had it all planned out. If I got the job, I'd be able to assist Steven with his job and we would finally get married.

　　I spoke with precision. Clean, deliberate, and just the right touch of humility. The three interviewers nodded at intervals, exchanged glances, and then one excused himself to speak with "the boss."

　　Barely five minutes later, he returned with a smile. "Congratulations, Miss Fisher. The boss would like you to start next Monday."

　　I blinked. "Wait… really?"

　　He chuckled. "Really. And you're given this time to prepare very well. No mistakes and we'd like to see more of your creative works."

　　"Yes…yes. Of course. I look forward to working with you, Mr…."

　　"Mr Jones," he answered with a smile.

　　My heart did a whole cartwheel. I stood, thanked them, shook hands, and kept the most composed smile on my face until I stepped outside. Once I left the company's area, I squealed into my hands like a maniac.

　　The Design Manager at Sanchez Group, the biggest firm in the entire city, hired me. My face hurt from smiling as I called a taxi.

　　I was too excited, I wanted to call anyone, but the one person I couldn't wait to tell was Steven. My boyfriend. I didn't even wait for the taxi to pull up to my building. I gave the driver Steven's address instead.

　　He always told me I was too talented to be working freelance for small-time clients. He knew how authentic my designs are, after all, we've been friends since high school. So the moment I got it, he had to be the first to know.

　　As I reached his apartment, I saw his car parked right where it always was. Good. He was home. I could already picture how he'd lift me off my feet, spin me around the living room, maybe open a bottle of wine to celebrate. I grinned to myself and unlocked the door with the spare key he had given me.

　　"Steven?" I called out, stepping in. "Baby, you won't believe what just happened!"

　　I didn't get an answer, as loud as my voice was.

　　I walked further in. "Steven?"

　　The lights were on. His car was outside. He had to be home. Maybe he was asleep? It's daytime and still very early in the morning, he couldn't be asleep.

　　I headed to his room, and was about to knock.

　　I froze, my ears dropped.

　　I heard…moans. Coming from his room.

　　I took a slow step forward, my ears straining. Steven wouldn't do that to me. He's too good and supportive to….

　　I heard it again. Louder and distinct. It was in his study room, opposite his bedroom. I got closer…

　　"Ah—Steven!" The voice moaned loudly.

　　My heart stopped.I froze, my feet glued to the spot, my mind trying to deny what my ears clearly heard.

　　No. No. That wasn't—

　　"God, you're so much better than my little nerd girlfriend," I heard him grunt. My stomach turned.

　　My sister's voice followed, grunting and breathing heavily. "You think she got the job?"

　　He let out a cruel laugh. "With her record? Baby, I made sure of that. The Sanchez Group would never touch her. You're the one I'm marrying, Tasha. You deserve better."

　　Tasha. My sister.

　　My knees buckled. I staggered, my hand gripping the wall. I moved like a ghost, my head spinning. I touched the door, where the sounds were pouring out from. I touched my face and felt wet eyes.

　　Oh, it was my tears. I looked around, and saw… it was my tears. Steven made me cry.

　　He never really did love me. Why did he pretend to want to marry me then?

　　I was filled with rage, agony and the excitement I had a few minutes ago had vanished.

　　My sister, Tasha, was in my fiance's room and was moaning his name loudly.

　　I couldn't breathe. I opened the door fully, yelling, and everything fell apart.

　　They both turned, startled. Tasha scrambled to cover herself. Steven jumped up from the couch, his pants around his thighs, and his face pale.

　　"Jo—Joann, what are you doing here?"

　　I dropped to the floor again. My purse hit the tiles with a thud.

　　I wasn't crying. No…. I wasn't. I just…

　　At this point, my hands were shaky and my eyes were a stream of tears.

　　My eyes shifted to Steven,

　　"Jo, please—listen—"

　　I raised a hand, weakly. "Just answer me one thing…"

　　He stopped moving, guilt dripping off every inch of him.

　　"How could you do this to me?"

　　"Sister, sister. You should have secured your place and let Steven have his sweet time with you. He's your fiancee, afterall. Now look at you—"

　　"Shut up, Tasha." Steven barked.