His Princess, Not His Blood

“Ella, what’s your plan tonight?” Victor asked, his voice laced with hope.

He was my friend in high school, and now somehow, fate had placed us in the same college.

It was only my second week, but already, the pressure of attention was suffocating.

“Dinner with my father,” I said flatly, forcing a smile as I rolled my eyes. My heart wasn’t mine to give it had been claimed long ago, in a time when I first tasted the sting of love.

He stepped closer, his hand brushing the back of his neck , a nervous habit I knew too well.

“Just… tell me when you’re free. I want to take you out,” he said, his voice trembling slightly, like he knew he was crossing a line.

“Victor…” I sighed, my voice dropping.

“I can’t. You know my dad. I’m not even allowed to think about dating.”

I paused, the weight of my words settling between us.

“Sometimes it feels like he owns my choices, even my feelings.”

He looked at me, confused but silent. And at that moment, I realized the cage wasn’t made of iron. It was made of love, guilt, and fear.

"Yeah, I know, but you're an adult now, Ella," Victor argued, desperation slipping through his voice.

I stopped mid-step, my eyes narrowing. “That doesn’t change a thing,” I snapped. “I can’t date anyone unless he says so.

Until he gives the word, my life is on pause.”

Without waiting for a response, I stormed out of the college corridor, my heels echoing like gunshots on marble floors.

It was the last day before the Christmas holidays, the only time of year I could pretend to breathe.

This week wasn’t just about lights and snowflakes, it was MY week. My birthday.

I’d be turning twenty , and this year, I swore I’d taste freedom, even if it was just a sip.

My black bmw purred quietly at the entrance like a loyal beast.

The driver stood ready, but I lingered, scanning for Celina,my one ally. She always waited, always hugged me before we parted for the break.

But today? Empty.

A lump formed in my throat.

“She didn’t show,” I whispered, more to myself.

“Let’s go,” I said sharply, yanking the door open.

As I sank into the leather seat, I stared ahead, jaw clenched.

“This birthday,” I muttered, “I’m done being his puppet.”

“Daddy!” I called out the moment I stepped through the towering glass doors of our mansion.

My voice echoed off the marble walls like it belonged there,sharp, certain, expected.

It was instinct by now. Every time I came home, I called for him, I needed to hear his voice, to feel that familiar grip on control that surrounded everything in this house.

The staff barely looked up from their spotless duties, trained like clockwork.

“Where is he?” I asked one of them, not breaking stride.

“In the gym, Miss,” a maid responded with a slight bow.

I offered a soft smile and turned toward the east wing. “Daddy,” I called again, the word curling off my tongue like a secret.

Our mansion stood like a silent empire in the heart of California ,glass, steel, and legacy. And at its center?

My father,my protector,my obsession. A man not just rich, untouchably rich.

A name people whispered behind closed doors and bowed to in public.

I pushed open the gym door, and the sound of whirring machines greeted me.

“There’s my baby girl,” he said without breaking pace on the treadmill.

He was shirtless. His body, carved like a Greek god, glistened with sweat.

Muscles rippled under each step he took, and for a moment, I froze, caught between admiration and awe. He didn’t belong to this world,he ruled it.

I knew I shouldn’t stare, but I did anyway.

There was power in his presence. And me? I was always his favorite audience.

I try to fight this feeling,this forbidden attraction,but it’s like battling the wind.

I know it’s wrong to think of him this way, yet I can’t stop myself. He’s not my real father, after all.

He was my father’s closest friend,my godfather. When a cruel twist of fate stole my parents from me in a car crash, he stepped in, held me in his arms, and made me his daughter.

He and my father met in college. He was a year below my dad, yet they bonded instantly,two ambitious souls sharing endless conversations about dreams and ideas.

They became inseparable. Later, when he struggled to find investors for his first start-up, my father believed in him, supported him, and together they built something extraordinary.

And now, here I am. His adopted daughter.

Standing before the mirror, heart pounding as I prepare for tonight’s dinner. I pick one of my finest dresses, then step into a warm bath, letting the steam calm my nerves.

The night outside is freezing, but I still want to look breathtaking for him. I slip into a backless gown with a daring neckline, fabric brushing against my skin as I wonder…

Will he notice me tonight?

“I’m ready,” I whispered as I descended the staircase, my heartbeat echoing louder than my footsteps.

He was already waiting calm, composed, the warm glow of the lights brushing against his face.

My gown shimmered softly as I moved, silk clinging to me like a secret. The back was daringly open, and though I’d let my hair fall long to hide it, I could still feel the cool air tracing my skin.

I knew he might scold me for the choice, but part of me wanted him to notice.

His eyes lifted when he saw me. For a fleeting second, something unspoken flashed

there,something deep, unreadable.

Then it was gone, replaced by a gentle smile.

“You look… beautiful,” he said quietly.

He stepped closer, his familiar warmth enveloping me as he pulled me into an embrace and brushed a kiss against my cheek.

For a moment, time stood still.

“Why backless?” he murmured, voice low. “It’s cold outside.”

He placed his hand lightly on my back, as though to shield me from the chill. The touch sent a shiver through me,not from the cold, but from something I couldn’t name.

“I’m turning twenty, Daddy,” I said softly, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek.

He sighed, half-smiling, but his voice carried that familiar protective edge. “Fine, but only for tonight.”

I nodded, pretending not to notice the warmth in his gaze.

The drive to the restaurant was quiet, the city lights blurring past us like ghosts of memory.

When we arrived, the scent of roses and the soft hum of piano music wrapped around me. It was one of my favorite places a hotel I’d visited with my parents before the accident.

Every corner whispered their laughter, their love, their absence.

He pulled out a chair for me, just as he always did. “So,” he began, his tone lighter now, “what’s your plan for Christmas vacation, Princess?”

I twirled my fork slowly, pretending to think. “I want to go to Paris , Daddy for Christmas and my…” I let the words hang, glancing up at him through my lashes, waiting to see if he would remember.

His expression softened, realization flickering in his eyes. “Your birthday.”

A small smile touched my lips, though my heart ached. “You remembered.”

So it’s done, we are going to Paris for Christmas vacation, I’ll arrange everything tomorrow.

“Is it okay we go the day after tomorrow because I have an urgent meeting tomorrow,” he asked?

“Yes daddy”, I said with excitement.