Perilous Passions: Seducing My Stepson

The first time Cailey Morris met Michael Morris was at her late husband's funeral. That day, a fierce snowstorm had swept through the city.

A servant held a black umbrella over Cailey, who was wearing a black dress and clutching a white handkerchief. Her eyes were red and swollen from tears, and her presence evoked a fragile beauty reminiscent of a flower caught in a downpour.

The Morris family was one of the most esteemed in Leson. As expected, nearly every notable figure in town attended the funeral.

"Mrs. Morris, my condolences," a young man dressed in a black suit said as he approached Cailey to pay his respects.

He extended his hand and, with a touch of refined grace, kissed the back of her hand.

Cailey's hand was slender, its soft texture accentuated by the heavy lace enveloping it. Her beauty was undeniable. More than mere beauty, her features carried a poignant allure.

Her wet eyelashes and eyes shimmered like gentle waves, her lips tender and rosy. The tip of her nose was reddened from crying, adding a delicate charm that was impossible to ignore.

It was clear why her late husband had lavished fortunes to marry her and kept her hidden from the world's eyes, unwilling to share her beauty with others.

Standing against the harsh wind and snow, Cailey appeared almost ethereal, as if she might dissolve into the elements at any moment.

The young man, who had just kissed her hand, was one of many captivated by her.

She was stunning, after all.

The young man couldn't resist the urge to draw nearer under the guise of offering condolences.

He did not release her hand, his grip tightening ever so slightly.

Panic flashed across Cailey's face as she tried to withdraw her hand, but the young man's hold only strengthened as he stepped closer.

His gaze lingered on her delicate features before he leaned in. "Mrs. Morris, should you ever feel lonely, I am more than willing to keep you company," he whispered.

Tears welled in Cailey's eyes, rolling down her cheeks like pearls.

She quickly bowed her head, seemingly fearful that other guests might notice her distress. Her lips trembled as she fought back tears, evoking deep sympathy.

Everyone was aware that with Bobby Morris' death, the family's wealth would transfer to his younger brother, Laurence Morris.

Now a childless widow, Cailey faced the prospect of being cast out by the Morris family.

The young man grew bolder in the face of Cailey's silence, his hand creeping further up her arm.

"Sir, please... don't do this." Cailey finally spoke.

Despite the clear rejection, her soft yet alluring voice made it sound like she wasn't entirely unwilling.

Driven by lust, the young man moved closer. The umbrella concealed his actions, so his hand boldly ventured further.

"Sir..." Cailey's tone sharpened, signaling firm resistance.

Before she could complete her protest, a tall figure intervened, stepping between them to separate the two.

Cailey trembled as she looked up through her tear-stained eyes. Her gaze met a pair of cold, arrogant eyes.

Startled, Cailey felt like the man could see right into her soul.

The young man, frustrated at the interruption, frowned. "You..." he said, only to be cut off.

"Cailey," the newcomer said to Cailey, disregarding the young man behind him. His voice was deep and commanding. "Please accept my condolences."

The young man was left speechless, words caught in his throat.

The surrounding guests, who had been discreetly watching the exchange, shared in the shock.

Even Cailey was momentarily taken aback, tears still clinging to her lashes. Amid the snow and wind, she gazed at the man.

His tall, commanding presence seemed to dwarf her. His stern expression and striking features were similar to her late husband's.

Suddenly, she recalled her husband mentioning an illegitimate son he hadn't seen in years.

"Michael Morris..." Cailey murmured.

"Yes." The man's brow lifted slightly as he nodded with a dignified air. "I am Michael Morris."