I Told My Stepbrother to Kidnap His Crush, So He Kidnapped Me Chapter 01

I Told My Stepbrother to Kidnap His Crush, So He Kidnapped Me Chapter 01

My stepbrother Blake Harris has a crush on some girl, but she doesn’t like him back.

He came to me for advice.

I’m full of bad ideas. “Tie her up. Make her love you.”

He said, “She likes someone else. She’ll hate me for it.”

I shrugged. “Yeah, forcing it isn’t exactly ideal. But if you don’t make a move, you get nothing.”

He looked thoughtful. “You might be right.”

Three days later, I was supposed to be on a date with my crush. Instead, I woke up in the basement of a country estate.

Blake stood in the doorway, backlit by the setting sun, smiling softly.

“Evening, Quinn.”

***

I’ve known I wasn’t a good person since kindergarten.

Our teacher gave each kid one piece of candy.

I quietly handed mine to the kid next to me and whispered, “The teacher said to give you this. She could’ve given everyone two pieces, but she kept some for herself instead. She likes you, though, so she gave yours back. Just don’t tell.”

That kid was thrilled. He tucked the candy away.

Then I went and told all the other kids that someone got more than them.

We know how kids are—nothing gets them more worked up than something being unfair.

Next thing I knew, they were crying and swinging at each other.

While the teacher tried to break it up, I added softly, “It’s all the teacher’s fault. If she hadn’t hoarded the candy…”

The kids stopped fighting each other.

They turned on the teacher instead.

The classroom turned into chaos. I slipped into a corner to watch the show.

One piece of candy bought me a whole day of entertainment.

I couldn’t pull that kind of stunt too often, though. I’d get sent to the principal’s office.

And getting sent to the principal meant my parents had to come in.

Which turned into a fight over who had to show up.

My dad didn’t want to come. He just didn’t care enough to bother. My mom was too busy with work.

So I was basically a latchkey kid, waiting alone in the kindergarten.

I rested my chin on my hand and sighed. My teacher sighed too.

Finally, my mom rushed over to pick me up. On the way home, she asked what happened.

I put on my saddest face. “I just gave my candy to another kid. I didn’t even get any myself.”

My mom’s soft-hearted. She saw my tears and didn’t blame me.

But my dad?

He said I embarrassed him. Next thing I knew, I was running. Still ended up with bruises.

He had a habit of swinging first. And yeah, it hurt. So I did the only logical thing. Time to trade up. I convinced my mom to divorce him.

She came through. They split. Not that it was hard. He really was useless.

Didn’t work, didn’t earn money, lived off her paycheck and acted like a king in his own castle.

Complained every day about me being a girl and about her not giving him a second kid.

The only thing he had going for him was his face.

I’ve seen their wedding photos. He was genuinely hot—even the blurry quality couldn’t kill that bone structure. No wonder my mom lost her mind over him.

But after a few years of marriage, he let himself go. Got fat.

I kept telling my mom how ugly he’d become.

Eventually, it worked.

One afternoon, she finally saw the light.

Her handsome husband had turned into a greasy slob.

She packed us up and filed for divorce. And just like that, I was from a single-parent household.