My Taboo Harem!

Chapter 418: Embracing the Real Family

A/N:Guys please, bear with me on this one.

This is going to be a heavy one — it’s going to dig deep, peel back layers we’ve only brushed against until now, and reveal some of the darkest, most jagged truths about what really happened eighteen years ago. It’s long, it’s raw, it hurts in places, and there’s no clean way to rush through it. But every word here matters.

So, take a breath, settle in, and stay with me. We’re finally naming the monster that’s been living in the walls all this time.

*****

Delilah stepped into the living room of the penthouse, barefoot on the cool obsidian tiles, wearing nothing but one of Phei’s oversized black shirts that fell to mid-thigh like a lazy lover refusing to leave.

The fabric clung to her skin in places — breasts, hips, the small of her back — outlining every curve she usually tried to pretend wasn’t there.

Her hair was still wet from the shower, loose waves clinging to her neck and shoulders, dripping slow, silvery trails down her collarbone that disappeared into shadow between her tits.

She stopped at the threshold at the sounds from the kitchen, arms folded tightly across her generous chest Phei would fall for any other day — the arms only pushed her breasts higher, nipples stiffening against the soft cotton like they were personally offended at being ignored for her mother who was getting all the attention now.

“NOPE!” she declared, voice half complaint, half resignation. “There is no way I can ever get used to this.”

Her tone carried the exhausted surrender of a girl who’d been saying the same thing every morning for four days and was starting to suspect she’d be saying it for the rest of her life — preferably while being railed into next week with her mother.

Phei and Melissa

both laughed — soft, warm, intimate sounds that filled the sunlit space like shared secrets between people who’d already fucked each other senseless twice before breakfast.

The laugh of two people who’d stopped pretending they weren’t exactly where they wanted to be: tangled, sweaty, and shameless.

Phei stood behind Melissa at the massive island, arms wrapped possessively around her waist, chin resting on her shoulder as she stirred something that smelled like vanilla, cinnamon, and slow-braised sin.

He wore only loose black drawstring pants slung low on his hips, chest bare, godly skin (crime of the molting) that caught the morning light in ways that should have been illegal.

Every muscle flexed lazily as he moved — shoulders rolling, forearms corded, abs tightening when he pressed himself closer — a walking reminder that the boy who’d once been invisible now looked like he’d been carved by a horny sculptor with a hard-on for perfection.

Melissa — hair piled in a messy knot, wearing nothing but one of Phei’s silk robes cinched loosely at the waist, the collar fallen off one shoulder to expose the curve of her breast and the fresh bite mark he’d left there last night — leaned back into him, comfortable in a way that spoke of days, not hours.

Of nights spent tangled together, thighs slick, mouths hungry, bodies learning each other like scripture.

Her robe gaped further when she shifted, revealing the inner swell of her tit, the dark edge of her nipple peeking out like it was daring someone to look away.

Phei’s lips brushed the side of Melissa’s neck. Once. Twice.

Then lower, slow and deliberate, open-mouthed kisses that left glistening trails along her pulse point, teeth grazing just enough to make her shiver.

Melissa squirmed — a soft, involuntary laugh escaping her as she tilted her head to give him better access, the spatula in her hand tilting dangerously, batter threatening to drip onto the counter like their restraint had already dripped somewhere else.

“Phei,” she murmured, half-scolding, half-invitation — the tone of a woman who wanted him to stop and wanted him to never stop and had made peace with the contradiction long before sunrise. “I’m trying to cook.”

He hummed against her skin, teeth grazing lightly, voice a low growl that vibrated straight down her spine and settled hot between her thighs.

“You’re doing beautifully, baby.”

Delilah rolled her eyes so hard it was audible — a full-body eye rollthat started in her toes and ended somewhere above the hairline.

The groan that followed was theatrical, devastated, the groan of an eighteen-year-old confronted with more incest sexuality

than any human should be asked to process before coffee.

Phei finally lifted his head, amethyst eyes glinting with mischief as he looked at her over Melissa’s shoulder.

The morning sun caught the remnants of glacial frost in his irises — faint, almost gone, a ghost of the void that had consumed Main Paradise four nights ago. In this light, in this kitchen, with butter sizzling and cinnamon in the air, he looked almost human.

Almost harmless.

Almost.

“You’re welcome to join, you know,” he said, voice dropping into that dangerous velvet register he used when he was only half-joking and the other half was a promise he fully intended to keep.

Delilah’s mouth dropped open. “Over my dead body.”

Phei laughed — low, rich, unhurried — the sound vibrating through Melissa’s back and making her bite her lip to keep from grinning like a woman who’d already been ruined and was looking forward to round two.

“You should get used to it soon,” he said, eyes never leaving Delilah, hand sliding lower on Melissa’s waist until his fingers disappeared beneath the silk, brushing the soft skin just above her mound to where his Mark was. “After all, I’ll have you both on the same bed eventually… moaning on my cock, thighs trembling, begging me to go deeper while you hold each other and kiss like you’ve been starving for it.”

Melissa and Delilah spoke at the exact same moment.

“”Phei.””

The same exasperated, scandalised inflection — one from a woman who was blushing despite herself and already wet again, one from a girl who was trying very hard not to picture it and failing spectacularly, thighs pressing together under the shirt like she could trap the sudden ache.

He laughed again, louder this time, head tipping back as though the outrage was the sweetest thing he’d heard all morning.

“What?” he asked, mock-innocent, arms tightening around Melissa’s waist until she gasped softly, hips rocking back against the thick ridge

of his cock pressing through the thin drawstring pants.

“Can’t a man hope? Besides…” He pressed another slow, open-mouthed kiss to the curve of Melissa’s shoulder, teeth grazing the bite mark he’d left last night, eyes locked on Delilah.

“You both know that’s going to happen eventually. Right? You’ll be spread out for me, legs wide, pretty little cunts dripping while I fuck one and finger or my mouth on the other until you’re both screaming my name and coming so hard you forget how you’re mother and daughter.”

Melissa reached back and swatted his thigh — lightly, playfully but had no intention of discouraging him and every intention of maintaining plausible deniability while her nipples hardened visibly against the silk.

“Don’t be so sure of yourself, dragon boy,” she murmured, voice husky, already thick with want.

Phei grinned against her neck, teeth flashing. “I’m very sure.”

Delilah groaned — theatrical, devastated— and turned on her heel, stalking toward the living room.

“When are Victoria and Sienna coming?” she called over her shoulder, trying — and failing — to sound casual.

The question was a life raft and she was grabbing it with both hands while her thighs rubbed together under the shirt.

“Soon,” Melissa answered, voice softening even as Phei’s hand slipped lower, fingers brushing the slick heat between her legs, making her breath hitch. “They said they’d be here for lunch.”

The two girls had been given their own suite on the 52nd floor of the Sovereign Tower — far below the sprawling three-story penthouse Phei now occupied with Melissa and Delilah on Floor 98.

For the past four days they had come upstairs only meals or wanted to spend time as family: long, quiet family meals, awkward silences broken by forced small talk, shared glances that carried too much weight and not enough clothing.

They always left after dinner, retreating back to their own space to sleep — or pretend to sleep — while Phei fucked.

Delilah suspected Victoria genuinely didn’t know — or refused to know — that their mother was sleeping with Phei.

She was still processing too much else: the murder of her real sister, the replacement with Danton, the lie her entire life had been built on.

Victoria had always been the softest of them beneath the wildfire exterior — the one who believed in family the hardest, who trusted the loudest, who broke the deepest when that trust was betrayed.

The truth had cracked something inside her that wasn’t going to heal on anyone else’s schedule.

Sienna, though…

Delilah was certain Sienna knew.