My Stepsister Wanted My Vampire Boyfriend

Two months before the graduation trials, my stepsister knelt in front of me and begged me to give her my boyfriend.

Celeste Vale was crying so beautifully that even the winter light seemed to soften for her.

Her pale cheeks were flushed. Her silver-blond hair spilled over her shoulders. Her blue eyes shimmered with tears, wide and helpless, like a princess wronged by the world.

No man could look at a girl like that and stay unmoved.

Maybe that was why Damon Blackwell had fallen for her.

Or maybe vampires simply preferred prettier prey.

“Aria,” Celeste sobbed, clutching the hem of my school skirt, “please. I know I’m shameless, but I really love Damon.”

I stared at her.

For a moment, I thought I had misheard.

Damon Blackwell was my boyfriend.

We had been together for nearly three years.

He was a vampire noble, heir to House Blackwell, the most dazzling boy in Moonridge Academy. He had crimson eyes, cold fingers, and a voice soft enough to make a lonely girl believe she was loved.

And I was lonely enough to believe anything.

The front door opened before I could answer.

My father and stepmother came home.

Celeste reacted faster than I did.

The second the key turned in the lock, she collapsed fully onto the floor and cried louder.

“Sister, I’m begging you! Please give Damon to me!”

Marina rushed in first.

The moment she saw her precious daughter kneeling on the cold floor, her face changed.

“My baby!” She ran to Celeste and pulled her into her arms. “Why are you kneeling? What happened?”

Then she looked at me.

The warmth vanished from her eyes.

It was always like that.

Celeste was her baby.

I was the problem.

Celeste grabbed Marina’s sleeve, sobbing so hard her shoulders shook.

“Mom, help me ask Aria. I really like Damon. I know he’s her boyfriend, but I can’t help it.”

My father, Edmund Vale, stood at the doorway.

For one foolish second, I looked at him with hope.

He was my father.

My mother had left when I was very young. Everyone said she had ruined herself with gambling and abandoned us. For years, I believed Father was the only person in this house who might still care about me.

Before Celeste was born, he used to carry me on his shoulders.

Before Marina came, he used to call me his little star.

Before this house turned pink and soft and full of Celeste, I used to think I had a home.

“Dad,” I said, my voice trembling despite myself, “Damon is my boyfriend.”

Father frowned.

The silence stretched.

Then he said, “The graduation trials are coming. You should not be distracted by romance.”

My heart sank.

Marina stroked Celeste’s hair and sighed.

“Aria, your sister has never asked you for anything.”

I laughed.

The sound came out sharp.

Never asked me for anything?

Celeste had asked for my room because it had better sunlight.

So I was moved into the smallest room at the end of the hall.

Celeste wanted piano lessons.

So Father bought her a grand piano and told me to focus on academics.

Celeste liked my blue coat.

So Marina said sisters should share, and somehow I never got it back.

Celeste wanted warmth, beauty, softness, attention.

And this family gave her everything.

Now she wanted Damon.

Apparently, I was supposed to hand him over too.

“No,” I said.

Everyone looked at me.

I stood up.

“I will not give him to her.”

Celeste’s crying stopped for half a second.

Marina’s face darkened.

Father’s voice lowered.

“Aria.”

“No.” My hands were shaking, but I kept speaking. “I have given her enough. My room. My clothes. My piano lessons. My place in this family. But Damon is mine.”

Marina stood slowly.

“Yours?” she repeated coldly. “What a selfish word.”

I looked at my father.

“Say something.”

He avoided my eyes.

Something inside me cracked.

I had spent years feeling sorry for him.

I knew Marina controlled the money. I knew he was tired. I knew he had to keep peace in the house.

But who had kept peace for me?

Who had noticed that I slept on thin sheets through winter while Celeste had heated blankets in October?

Who had cared that Marina timed my showers but let Celeste soak in rose baths for an hour?

Who had asked why Celeste ate steak and soup while I picked at leftovers?

No one.

Not even him.

Father finally spoke.

“This matter is settled. You will break up with Damon.”

I stared at him.

Celeste lowered her head, but not before I saw the corner of her mouth lift.

A tiny smile.

A victorious one.

I turned and walked back to my room.

Behind me, Marina was already coaxing Celeste to the living room.

“There, there. Don’t cry. I bought your favorite cake.”

The door closed behind me.

Their voices became muffled.

I stood in my narrow little room, surrounded by cold walls and old furniture, and realized something.

In this house, love was not something I could earn.

It was something Celeste had been born owning.

And I had been born watching.