In love with My Stepson

"Promise me, Trump," her voice was weak, a mere whisper in the quiet room. "Promise me you'll protect Santiago with your last breath. Don't let him lose his way..."

Trump Mophi, a towering figure of wealth and power, felt his resolve shatter as he leaned over his dying wife. Her pale face, once so full of life, now showed the toll of the illness that had slowly stolen her vitality. His hand trembled as he gently held hers.

"I promise," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "I will protect him with everything I have. He'll never want for anything."

A faint smile tugged at her lips. She closed her eyes, her hand slipping from his grasp as she exhaled one final breath. The room became heavy with silence, the weight of her absence pressing down on Trump like an invisible force.

Beside him, a young Santiago, barely five years old, sat in wide-eyed confusion. He stared at his father, his innocent mind struggling to understand what had just happened. He reached for Trump's hand, his small fingers wrapping around the only anchor he had left in the world.

From that moment forward, Trump Mophi dedicated his life to fulfilling his promise. He showered Santiago with everything money could buy-education, luxury, protection. Trump wasn't just a father; he was a fortress, ensuring that his son never faced the hardships of the outside world.

But there was one thing Trump couldn't protect Santiago from: the need to experience life for himself.

Years passed, and Santiago grew into a striking young man. His upbringing in a world of wealth had shielded him from the challenges most people faced. But as Santiago approached his final year of high school, Trump made a decision that would pull his son out of that protective bubble.

"Santiago," Trump said one evening, his voice firm yet caring, "there's more to life than what you see in this house. You need to know the other side of the world-the side that isn't cushioned by money."

Santiago, seated across from his father, looked confused. "What do you mean, Dad?"

"I'm sending you to a public high school. It's time you see how most people live, how they struggle, and what life is like beyond this mansion."

Santiago blinked in surprise. He had never considered that his life was different from others. He had everything-why would his father want to take him out of the comfort he had always known?

"Is this really necessary?" Santiago asked, uncertainty creeping into his voice.

Trump's eyes softened as he leaned forward. "You're a good boy, Santiago, but you need to grow. This experience will shape you, make you stronger."

Santiago sighed, but he trusted his father. He nodded, though he couldn't shake the uneasy feeling settling in his stomach.

The first day at Southside High was a shock to Santiago's system. The moment he stepped into the bustling hallway, he realized just how different this world was from his own. The walls were faded, the floors scuffed, and the students' clothes were a far cry from the designer outfits he was used to seeing. Santiago felt out of place, and a small knot of anxiety tightened in his chest.

"Excuse me," a soft voice interrupted his thoughts.

He turned and saw her-a girl with dark, curly hair and deep brown eyes, standing beside him. She smiled, her expression kind and open.

"Are you lost?"

Santiago blinked, momentarily taken aback by her friendliness. "Uh, yeah... I'm new here. I'm looking for Mr. Johnson's class."

"That's my first class too," she said, her smile widening. "I can show you the way."

As they walked together, Santiago couldn't help but steal glances at her. There was something about her-an air of genuineness, of warmth. She wasn't like the girls he had known in his previous school. She wasn't interested in his wealth or status. She was just... real.

When they reached the classroom, Santiago turned to thank her, but before he could say a word, the bell rang, and the students around them began to push into the room. The girl disappeared into the crowd, leaving Santiago with a strange sense of loss.

For the rest of the day, Santiago found himself distracted, his thoughts returning to the girl he had met in the hallway. Who was she? He hadn't even asked for her name.

During lunch, Santiago wandered into the cafeteria, scanning the crowded room for a familiar face. He found an empty table in the corner and sat down, his mind still on the girl. He was beginning to wonder if he'd ever see her again when someone slid into the seat across from him.

"Hey," came the familiar voice.

Santiago looked up, his heart skipping a beat. It was her-the girl from earlier. She smiled at him, her eyes sparkling with a kindness that seemed to ease the tension in his chest.

"Thought you might need some company," she said, glancing around the cafeteria.

Santiago chuckled softly. "Yeah, I'm not exactly blending in here."She laughed, and the sound was like music to his ears. "Don't worry. You'll get used to it."

They talked as they ate, and Santiago quickly realized how easy it was to be around her. She didn't care about his background or his family's wealth. She was genuine, and in this strange new world, she was the first person to make him feel like he belonged.

"By the way," she said as they finished their lunch, "I'm Genevieve."

"Santiago," he replied, shaking her hand. There was something electric in the brief touch, and Santiago felt his heart race a little faster.

Over the next few weeks, Santiago and Genevieve became close friends. They shared classes, lunches, and long conversations that stretched well into the evening. Santiago found himself looking forward to every moment with her, and before long, his feelings for her deepened into something more than just friendship.

As they both spent more time together, their bond grew stronger