MY BOYFRIEND'S UNCLE: YES DADDY SERIES

“You’re not staying in New York for Christmas, right?” Catherine, Lala’s sister, asked as she packed up her luggage, ready to leave.

Lala, lying on the bed with her fingers clasped behind her head, smiled. “John and I have already planned a trip. We’re going to Sweden...”

Catherine didn’t even let her finish. Her ears felt tired of her sister’s chatter about her relationship. She cut her off, saying, “Blah blah... I’m not sticking around to listen to your relationship show-off. I’m leaving.”

Lala laughed and got off the bed to help Catherine with her luggage. After Catherine got into a taxi, she glanced back and asked, “Will you come to California?”

Lala hesitated for a moment, then replied tentatively, “I need to talk to John about it...”

Catherine rolled her eyes and told the driver, “Drive.”

Lala’s lips curled into a small smile. She was used to Catherine’s dismissive attitude whenever she talked about John. Deep down, Lala hoped Catherine find a man like John—someone who would love and treat her well.

Lala turned back into the house and sank onto her bed, a frown tightening across her face. Three hours had passed and her boyfriend, John, still hadn’t called or texted. She grabbed her phone, deciding to message him first.

Then she froze.

Her eyes widened, her fingers trembling as she stared at the screen. She blinked hard, certain she had to be mistaken, then shook her head as if that could undo what she’d just seen.

She called John immediately.

No answer.

She tried her best friend, Hannah.

No answer.

Lala paced the room, frustration bubbling over. “Pick up… you two need to pick up,” she muttered, calling again and again until her throat felt tight.

She sat on the bed, stood again, walked to the door, came back—restless, conflicted—until she finally made up her mind. She left her room, grabbed her keys, and drove straight to John’s house.

At the entrance, she stopped the butler. “Is John home?”

The elderly man hesitated. “Miss, John isn’t here. But you should check the swimming pool area. His uncle is there—he may know where John is.”

“Thank you,” Lala said, already hurrying away.

She reached the pool just as Philip—John’s uncle—was climbing out of the water. Droplets slid down his shoulders and chest, tracing the lines of his muscles as he reached for a towel.

Lala stopped without meaning to. Her gaze lingered too long, her mind betraying her with images she didn’t want, and heat rushed to her face. Embarrassed, she looked away quickly.

Philip noticed her and walked over. “You’re John’s girlfriend, right?”

The way his eyes swept over her made her cheeks burn even more. She forced herself to speak, voice quieter than she intended. “Yes. I’ve been calling him, but he isn’t picking up. Please tell him I came looking for him, and that he needs to call me—immediately.”

Before Philip could respond, Lala turned and hurried off.

Philip watched her go, the corner of his mouth twitching. “What was that about?” he murmured, amused.

Then he glanced down at himself, his lips curving into a knowing smile. He shook his head and walked away.

After Lala got home, she called John again and again, but it only got worse—the calls wouldn’t even connect. With a frustrated exhale, she fell back on the bed, stared at the ceiling, and eventually drifted off.

At dawn the next day, the doorbell’s ringing yanked her out of sleep. Groggy and irritated, she dragged herself to the door and opened it.

John stood there, smiling.

“Good morning, princess,” he said, leaning in for a kiss.

Lala stepped back instead. She folded her arms and stared at him, saying nothing.

John’s smile faded. A frown creased his forehead. “What’s the matter?”

“Over thirty missed calls,” Lala said, her voice tight. “And then suddenly I couldn’t even connect…”

She let the words hang, raising one brow as she studied him.

John’s frown deepened. “If you’re not happy to see me, just say that. I was supposed to have a business meeting this morning. I left all that and came straight here to see you, and you won’t even let me in—you’re keeping me at the door, interrogating me.” His tone sharpened. “Look, Lala, I don’t know what you’re trying to do, or if you’re tired of us, but just say it. Stop playing these bullshit games.”

Lala’s eyes filled. Her voice trembled. “You can’t wait to be with her.”

John blinked, his expression hardening.

“You’re desperate to be with Hannah,” Lala continued, staring him down through tears. “You can’t wait, can you?”

John’s face darkened. When he spoke, his voice was cold and stern. “You’re always insecure. You don’t want me talking to other girls—you can’t even let me breathe around other girls. Just because I helped Hannah when she got hurt while we were together, you automatically think there’s something going on.”

Lala cut him off, anger breaking through the hurt. “She posted about you. Not just about you—a picture of both of you. And she captioned it: forever together. Do you know what that means?” Her chest tightened painfully. “It means you’re cheating on me, John. With my best friend. You’re fucking her!”

Tears rolled down her cheeks as she stared at him, lips shaking.

John looked almost bored. He shrugged it off, answering with maddening calm. “Think whatever you want. I don’t give a damn. Because I could never cheat on you—and not with Hannah. So stop being paranoid.”

Lala’s eyes widened. A helpless, disbelieving laugh escaped her. “I’m being paranoid?” she repeated. “I screenshot the photo she posted—”

She turned and walked back into the house. “I’ll show you.”