His Father's Legacy

Natasha’s still in black when she walks through the door with Edwin, her shoulders tight after that bullshit will reading. Nothing for her. Edwin says he’ll look after her, let her crash in the house he just inherited. She pulls him into a hug that lingers a second too long. When they break apart he’s already talking about clearing out his stepdad’s storage locker, get it over with quick. Next day they roll up, slide the door, and stare into a full-blown BDSM dungeon—chains, benches, the works. Natasha’s face twists, part rage, part disbelief. Edwin tries to shake it off, says he’ll gut the place, but his eyes keep drifting back to the gear. Days slip by. Natasha keeps asking why the locker still looks the same; Edwin dodges every time. She finally shows up to check, steps inside, and he’s there in the dark, that hungry smirk cutting across his face. He’s made up his mind: he’s picking up right where his stepdad left off.