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Don't touch Daddy 💦💕⛓️‍💥

Author: M&C
last update publish date: 2026-09-02 15:35:46

IVY

My fist sinks into his chest again, the sickening sound echoing off the concrete walls of the basement.

The guy is already half-dead, a bloody, weeping mess of broken teeth and pleading groans, but my grip doesn't loosen.

I’ve got him bunched up by the collar, dragging him up just so I can slam him back down.

He knows something. I was sure he does. They always do!

Every breathing soul in this city is a potential threat, a loose thread. All of them are a knife at my back.

But they left me. They fucking left me and went for her! Claire—they took Claire away from me. They touched what was mine, and every single person who had a hand in it, or even caught a whisper of the plot, is going to pay in pieces.

"Christian. Stop." Ace’s hand clamps onto my shoulder.

"Get out!" I snarl, my voice tearing raw from my throat.

“Christian.” He calls me again. “He doesn't seem like he knows much.”

"Shut the fuck up, Ace!” I snap. “He knows about the day. He was there. He swallowed his tongue when it mattered. And he will pay!"

Ace gestures to the body of the guy. Our eyes meet. Mine are red with fury that can never fully be buried. "Look at him, man. He’s done. We can't handle the heat if he drops dead right here. We know that."

"I don't give a fuck," I bark.

But Ace doesn't pull away; he just holds my gaze, that steady, immovable anchor in the storm of my own rage. I know that look. Let it go. You have to.

My fingers tremble. The fabric slips. The guy slumps into a boneless heap on the floor, gasping.

"Take care of him," I breathe, ripping my gaze away as I yank my bloody hands back. "Do what you can. Make sure this stays buried," I command.

I storm out, yanking at my tie, ripping the silk away from my throat until I can drag air into my burning lungs. My head is a war zone. I knew the enemies were circling, but I never—never—thought they’d reach Claire. And since the day they stole her from me, my life has been a relentless, burning countdown of vengeance.

The culprits are hiding in the shadows of this city, and the chase is driving me insane.

I sink into the leather chair in my study, completely fucked, my pulse hammering behind my eyes.

Right as I reach for the bottle, my phone blasts.

Nancy.

I don't pick.

It rings again, twice, thrice. I knew it was serious now.

"What?"

"Sir. It’s... it’s Ivy."

I sit bolt upright, a cold spike driving into my chest. "What about Ivy?"

"She... she's leaving the house, sir."

"What? Leaving the house? With who?"

“Alone, sir.”

I frown. "Did you not give her the rules?"

"I tried, sir. I gave her the book, but she refused. She practically looks like she will put up a fight if I don't let her."

"Do whatever you can. Stop her. I will be there in ten."

The call drops.

My hand flies to my temple.

Godfuckingdammit.

This is exactly why I didn't want a kid under my roof. A spoiled, reckless brat who thinks she can wander into a city she hasn't seen in four years, blowing off curfew, spitting on my rules like a goddamn amateur.

I shove up out of the chair, my hands still stained with dried blood, and I don't even care.

I drive back like a lunatic, tires screaming against the road, and hit the estate gates with my chest heaving. I burst through the front door. Nancy is waiting by the porch, wringing her hands, like trouble is already looming.

"Where is she?"

"Sir, she… she left."

“She what?”

“She left, sir. I… I tried to—”

"Get out." I wave her away, my eyes slashing down to the watch on my wrist.

Seven p.m.

She left around seven-fifteen. Ignoring the rules I had given her in just a few hours of being here?

Phew… I breathe.

I pull out my phone, dialing her number over and over, listening to the dead, empty rings until I want to throw the device through the window.

I brought this on myself.

I really knew what little children are capable of, yet I let her huge ass and huge round boobs fool me.

Calm down, Christian, my brain whispers. She will definitely be back before the curfew time. She read the rules. Although she broke one, she can't just ignore it.

That was true. She won't ignore it like that. No.

Three hours later, I’m pacing the living room like a caged animal. It's ten p.m.

Ace steps into the space, his voice low. "Should we go look for her?"

"No." My jaw locks so tight my teeth groan.

I'm not going in search of a kid that refuses to listen. She will come back here and I will teach her what it means to obey. Nobody can come to my house and think they will rule.

By eleven—it's deep into the dead of night now—the rage in me is slowly shifting to something else.

What if it is them?

What if she was lured out?

Come to think of it, this girl just arrived today. And there's no way on this earth that somebody who just arrived today throws the rules in the trash and stays out this late unless she’s begging for trouble. Or worse, held by it.

I’ve had enough.

I stand up, my keys biting into my palm, and stride toward the front door. My hand hits the brass handle, pulling it open, ready to step out into the night—

And there…. Standing in the low light of the porch.

Ivy.

My breath catches. Instinctively, my eyes linger. God, they linger…. And…

She’s wearing a fishnet dress—so sheer, so impossibly thin, that I can clearly see the dark, heavy swells of her breasts pushing tightly against the cups of her red bra beneath.

My gaze drops, burning a path down her body. Her hips are entirely bare beneath the wide, gaping holes of the net. Only a microscopic string of a panty covering her cunt mold is what separates the view from absolute, shameless nakedness.

What kind of dressing is this…

My cock violently twitches in my trousers, throbbing hard at the sight of my dead wife’s sexy, defiant replica standing on my porch at eleven in the night.

The heat floods my veins, dirty images flashing through my head instantly—images of her shaking this huge ass in the lights of whatever club she's coming from.

I force my spine straight. I swallow the taste of ash in my mouth and summon every ounce of iron I have left.

"Where the fuck do you think you are coming from?”

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