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Your father

Author: Khey coco
last update publish date: 2025-11-02 05:43:10

CHRISTIAN POV

I leaned back in my office chair, the New York skyline cutting through the window like a jagged threat. Luca, my brother, sprawled across from me, smirking like he thought he had the upper hand.

“You finally decided to give me your time,” he drawled, all smug, like he was doing me a favor by being here.

“I didn’t,” I snapped, voice cold as steel. “I just need you to get one thing straight.”

He tilted his head, brows furrowing, that annoying smirk still plastered on.

“Le
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  • Claimed by the billionaire    Our life (Epilogue 2)

    ELIZABETH POV “Christian, for fuck’s sake, can you not do this right now?” I grunted as his lips found my neck, nibbling that sensitive spot that always made my knees weak. My body arched into him anyway, heat pooling low, but we were already thirty minutes late for Tessa and Alexander’s wedding. This was not the time. “It won’t take long,” he murmured, his voice rough. “Just five minutes.” His hands were already sliding inside my Dior custom silver dress, fingers greedy, pushing the fabric up my thighs. I had just put the dress on, and somehow my husband couldn’t keep his hands off me. Tessa was finally marrying her forever crush, and we were about to miss it because Christian couldn’t behave. “Christian, we are not—” My words cut off in a moan when his fingers found my panties, stroking my already wet pussy through the lace. Four years married and this man still set me on fire every single time. “Fucking hell, you’re so wet, wife,” he hissed. In one swift mo

  • Claimed by the billionaire    Epilogue 1

    Two Years Later Elizabeth POV “Christian, I swear to God I’m going to break your head when you get back home.” I whined on the phone. “Red, I’m on a business trip and you wouldn’t stop calling me. Don’t be a dramatic ass, I’ll be back home before you know it.” He told me, and I can picture him trying to bite back laughter. “And when is that going to be Mr. Reed? Your kids are after my life, especially Leo! He only wants you around.” Yes. We had a son. Leo, he’s just two but he’s a mini Christian. Just this morning, he refused to eat his breakfast because I cut his toast into triangles instead of squares like Christian does. Triangles! Then he tried to unlock Christian’s study for the fifth time this week, nearly toppling over a vase in the hallway. When I caught him, he looked at me with those gray eyes—Christian’s eyes—and said “Daddy” like I was the problem. Christian let out a rumble of laughter, and it did something to me. It’s crazy after all this while I still can

  • Claimed by the billionaire    The reeds

    ELIZABETH POV Two months had passed since my father was locked away. I would have been lying if I said I wasn’t satisfied. After what he did to Christian’s mother, I saw him as nothing but evil. If Christian had killed him, I wouldn’t have been mad—just didn’t want that blood on his hands. The funniest part? Society painted Christian as a monster—ruthless, cold, dangerous. They never saw this: him in the kitchen, apron tied loose, dishing Hope’s scrambled eggs while she chattered about her toy dinosaur’s “superpowers.” He listened like it was the most important briefing of his life, nodding, asking, “So the T-Rex could fly now?” Hope giggled, mouth full. The sight melted me. He was freaking adorable. I had hated him when I first moved in, I hated the walls, the rules, the man. Now? I was completely whipped. I had pulled out the soft in him, the part buried under years of armor. And he had done the same for me. I’m utterly in love with him. “Can you pass the butter?” Christia

  • Claimed by the billionaire    It’s over

    CHRISTIAN POV I sat in the front row, knuckles digging into my thighs, every muscle locked. Matthew Davenport stood at the table, recorder in hand, the one Elizabeth slipped him last night after she’d played Harper like a cheap violin. She wasn’t in the building. I’d made her stay home, locked the gates myself, told her if Harper’s eyes even landed on her today I’d lose it. She’d rolled her eyes, kissed me hard, said, “Finish it, Christian.” Then she walked out. That was her being smart. That was her being safe. The judge, a thick-necked man with a buzz cut and zero patience, slammed his gavel. “Play the tape.” Matthew pressed the button. Harper’s voice filled the room, thin, panicked, recorded in his own study. “I did it. We all had a piece of Christian’s mother—Paul, Robert, Rick. Two, three times a week when Paul got bored.” Gasps punched the air. Jurors jerked back. Harper bolted upright, chair screeching across the floor. “That bitch set me up!” I was over the

  • Claimed by the billionaire    Done

    ELIZABETH POV I got home, my blood pumping from outsmarting Father, his desperate pleas still ringing in my ears. I headed straight to Christian’s study, I pushed the door open, and there he was—lounging in his chair, shirt sleeves rolled up, dark hair messy over his eyes, all sharp edges and quiet heat. He looked up, his gaze locking onto mine, a slow, dangerous grin spreading across his face. “Baby,” he said, his voice low, rough, like it could unravel me right there. I moved toward him, my steps slow, my eyes never leaving his. He stood, closing the gap fast, his hands grabbing my waist, pulling me against him with a firm, hungry tug. Before I could speak, he spun me, pinning me gently against the desk, his body close, his hips pressing into mine. His fingers slid under my shirt, grazing the bare skin of my lower back, warm and deliberate, sending a shiver straight through me. “You good?” he murmured, his voice thick, his lips brushing the edge of my jaw, teasing, making

  • Claimed by the billionaire    Her plan

    ELIZABETH POV My blood ran cold, my hands clenching so hard my nails dug into my palms. Statutory rape? He’s going to lie about my age to lock Christian up? Fury surged through me, my heart pounding, but I kept my face steady, a mask of calm. “You’re out of your damn mind,” I said, my voice low, sharp, each word like a blade. “I was twenty, not seventeen, and I’m not letting you twist that to hurt him.” His smirk vanished, his eyes darkening with rage. He slammed his fist on the table, the thud shaking the glass of juice, his face twisting red. “You’re protecting that bastard?” he roared, his voice thick with anger, veins bulging in his neck. “After everything he’s done? You’re choosing him over your family?” I leaned forward, my eyes blazing, my voice sharp as a blade. “You didn’t care about choosing money over me when you tried to sell me to that 65-year-old creep,” I shot back, my words dripping with venom, my heart pounding with old pain and fresh fury. Hypocrite

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