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CHAPTER NINETY-NINE
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2025-09-29 19:49:23
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The Fathers of My Child? CHAPTER HUNDRED AND ONE
#Dorothy’s POV#I’ve already decided.No more waiting. No more hoping someone will choose me before I choose myself. I don’t care what this place says about rest or recovery. I don’t even care about the baby right now. I’m done being this version of me; quiet, patient, broken, pretending like someone’s going to save me just because I’m hanging by a string.The light in my room is dim. Everything smells like sanitizer and melted wax from the aromatherapy diffuser by the window. I grab my phone where it’s tucked under the pillow and click into Cass’s DM again. Her message is still there. Bold. Loud. Real.“Get up. Run. Now. This is not your deathbed. This is the last time you’ll ever beg anyone to love you. You’re not a ghost. You’re not a wound. You’re a fucking woman. Move.”A tear slips down, but I swipe it away. That’s enough.I swing my legs over the bed slowly, listening for any footsteps in the hall. Dr. Malik has been dealing with another patient most of the evening—I heard him
The Fathers of My Child? CHAPTER HUNDRED
#Joel’s POV#Fuck myself.Yeah. That’s it. That’s all I got left in me right now. The only thing I’ve earned the right to say.I sit in this shithole bar that smells like piss, beer, and sweat-soaked lies. The stool under me squeaks every time I shift, like even it can’t stand to hold me up anymore. The bartender keeps glancing like he’s worried I’ll throw up or die. I don’t blame him. I kinda hope I do both. This place wasn’t chosen with any thought. I just… drove. Turned corners till I landed in the loudest, cheapest hole I could find where no one knew my name.And now I’m drinking. Really drinking. None of that sipping with manners or slow swirls bullshit. Just pouring it down like I can drown whatever the hell this emotion is. Guilt? Rage? Grief? Self-hate?All of it.The glass is cold in my hand. My fingers are shaking. I’ve had… five? Seven? I don’t know. I don’t care.I deserve worse.Rico was right.Every damn word he screamed at me at the clinic stuck like fucking arrows in m
The Fathers of My Child? CHAPTER NINETY-NINE
#Narrator’s POV#📥 CASS — 1:27 PM Doro... I just saw the trending tag again. Are you okay? Please, answer me. I know I’ve been quiet lately. I know I’ve missed too much. But talk to me. Please.📤 DOROTHY — 1:41 PM I’m still breathing. I guess that counts.📥 CASS — 1:42 PM What does that even mean?? Don’t scare me like that. Where are you? What happened? Are you still in the hospital?📤 DOROTHY — 1:46 PM Yeah.They say I’m stable now. But who cares. Nobody’s here. Nobody’s asking. You know what’s crazy? I don’t even remember how I got here. Just remember the blood and then black.📥 CASS — 1:47 PM Baby... I’m here. I’m here, ok? And you’re not alone. I don’t care if I’m six countries away. I’ll walk back if I have to. What happened? Please tell me. I'm already shaking.📤 DOROTHY — 1:55 PM I was invited to a public family breakfast. I didn’t want to go. I wasn’t even well. I still had stitches in my heart from the last fall and they told me to put on lipstick and smile. I
The Fathers of My Child? CHAPTER NINETY-EIGHT
#Dorothy’s POV#I open my eyes but I might as well not have.There’s nothing to look at. Nothing I want to see. The white ceiling above me just hangs there. The clock ticks like it’s teasing me. And everything inside me feels so still I’m sure I died somewhere between the press lights and the hospital bed.I don’t even know how long I’ve been here.They said it was afternoon.No visitors.No calls, except Cass—who keeps trying, bless her soul. But I can’t talk to her. I can’t talk to anyone. I can’t even lift my arms.Of course Joel left.Of course he did.Probably after instructing his PA to call an ambulance and toss me in like a dying UPS package. And Rico… maybe he got another call from Paulina. Maybe he realized he’s done his quota and ran back to his real life. Who knows.Nobody’s been in here.Just machines.Beeping.Monitors.Silence.I’m tired.I’m just tired.The door clicks, and I barely react. I expect another faceless nurse to check my vitals and disappear like all the re
The Fathers of My Child? CHAPTER NINETY-SEVEN
#Rico’s POV#This place smells like bleach and death.The lights are too bright, the seats too stiff, the air too cold, and I can’t sit down for shit. I’m pacing. And pacing. And pacing. The soles of my sneakers are scraping the tiles raw. I don’t care. Let them bill me.She was in his arms when she went limp. Dorothy.Bleeding. Again.God—again.“Fucking hell,” I mutter, gripping my head and dragging my hand through my hair till it hurts. “Fuck this. Fuck this family. Fuck this circus of a life.”Why the hell did I even show up this morning? For what? To be used as a prop in some disgusting PR breakfast meant to parade us all as united while they murdered her with their words?My only aunt running her damn mouth like she didn’t almost faint at my mom’s funeral five years ago when I told her not to touch the casket. She had the audacity to sit there and imply Dorothy was cursed. That woman is a virus in a brooch.And Paulina—Paulina fucking dared to show up? I bumped into her at the h
The Fathers of My Child? CHAPTER NINETY-SIX
#Dorothy’s POV#They said “just breakfast.”Just a stupid family breakfast. With cameras.And yet, here I am, sitting in front of the mirror like I’m about to be embalmed.The maids stand around me, not really touching anything unless I ask. They just quietly move my makeup kit from one side to the other, straighten the accessories I haven’t even worn, and stand with their arms behind their backs like they’re observing a funeral prep.Because honestly, that’s what it feels like.Like I’m being pampered for a casket.I’m not even sure how I got the strength to stand, or to dress, or to draw my brows with a pencil that kept snapping, but I did. I couldn’t say no to the directive. Not under his roof.Another maid peeks in, her face tense. “Ma’am… you’re late. Very late. Sir Joel is already asking for you.”I don’t flinch. I just nod once.Not like I’m eager to see him anyway.I walk out the room, heels clicking softly against the floor. My fingers brush against the wall for support more
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