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Chapter 26 – His Principessa vs. His Baby
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2025-09-28 12:45:57
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WORSHIPPED BY MY DAD'S BESTFRIEND Chapter 76 – Shifting Seasons
SAESHA POV The ride home from Clara’s clinic felt different. Our son — Elian now, not just Bean — was fast asleep in his car seat, his tiny fists curled against his cheeks. Every bump in the road made me peek back at him, just to be sure he was still breathing, still safe. Alex drove one-handed, his other resting on my thigh, thumb tracing circles absentmindedly. His face was unreadable, somewhere between calm and calculating, but when we pulled into the driveway and carried Elian upstairs, he softened instantly. I settled onto the bed, cradling Elian against me. He stirred, whining softly, rooting. I sighed, tugging down my neckline. “Alright, baby. Mama’s got you.” He latched, suckling, but slower than usual. Alex leaned against the dresser, arms folded, watching intently. “He’s not drinking as much.” I frowned, adjusting him. “He’s distracted. He’ll finish.” But Alex shook his head, his eyes narrowing. “No. He’s slowing down. Your milk’s less now, isn’t it?” Hea
WORSHIPPED BY MY DAD'S BESTFRIEND Chapter 75 – Shadows in the Clinic
SAESHA POV The sound of “Da-da” still echoed in my head as we packed up the baby’s things, though my chest was still prickling with jealousy. Alex was smug, smirking like he’d just won a championship. Our little bean was babbling happily in his carrier, completely unaware of the storm of emotions he’d caused. I shoved the last of the wipes into the diaper bag, muttering under my breath. “Mama’s the one who cleans your poop, Bean. You’ll figure it out.” Alex chuckled from the doorway. “You’re still salty.” “Shut up,” I snapped, my lips twitching despite myself. That’s when Clara’s voice cut through the room. “Alex. A word?” His smirk slipped. His eyes flicked to me, then back to Clara. “Now?” “Yes.” Clara’s tone was clipped, too serious. “Now.” Something in my gut twisted. I bent lower over the diaper bag, pretending to dig for the pacifier, but my ears sharpened. Alex followed Clara just outside the exam room, the door left cracked open. Her voice was low, ti
WORSHIPPED BY MY DAD'S BESTFRIEND Chapter 74 – First Word at the Clinic
SAESHA POV The car ride was hell. I cradled our son in the back seat, my arms trembling from holding him too tightly, my tears still drying on my cheeks. He’d stopped crying now, lulled by the motion, but every soft hiccup made my chest tighten again. Alex drove like a man possessed. His knuckles were white on the wheel, jaw clenched, eyes locked on the road as if sheer focus could undo what happened. “Saesha,” he said finally, his voice low, rough. “He’s fine. I checked him. No bruises, no swelling—” “He fell, Alex,” I snapped, my voice breaking. “He hit the ground because of your stupid—” My throat closed, too tight to finish. Silence filled the car, thick and heavy. When we pulled into Clara’s clinic, she was already waiting at the door, her white coat fluttering as she hurried out. “What happened?” I rushed forward, clutching my son to my chest. “He fell—Alex made some running pram thing and—and he tripped—and he cried—” My voice cracked, tears threatening again. Clara’
WORSHIPPED BY MY DAD'S BESTFRIEND Chapter 73 – The Fucker and the Pram
SAESHA POV “Alex!” My scream echoed through the house as our son zoomed past me in a blur of squeals and tiny feet strapped into some contraption that looked suspiciously homemade. The baby giggled, his little arms flapping, his legs pumping against the padded base of what was… oh god. “Alex, what the hell did you build?” Alex appeared from the kitchen, wiping his hands on a rag, grinning like a mad scientist. “Improvement. Baby’s first running pram.” I gawked at him. “Running what?” He pointed proudly as our son squealed again, the little wheels spinning under him. “See? He walks, he runs. Builds stamina. Builds balance. Genius, right?” I threw my hands up. “Fucker Alex, he’s eight months old! Eight! He doesn’t need stamina, he needs naps!” Our son zoomed straight into the couch, bounced harmlessly thanks to the padding, and laughed like he’d just won the lottery. Alex smirked. “See? Already tougher than both of us combined.” I dragged a hand down my face, my chest tight
WORSHIPPED BY MY DAD'S BESTFRIEND Chapter 72 – Little Feet, Big Steps
SAESHA POV The living room was a mess of toys. Stuffed animals, rattles, a plastic truck that squeaked every time it moved — all scattered across the rug like a minefield. And right in the middle of it sat our son. Eight months old. Chunky cheeks, wild hair that wouldn’t stay down, eyes as stormy and stubborn as Alex’s. He slapped his little palms against the floor, babbling nonsense, his gummy mouth wide in a grin. “Bean,” I cooed, clapping my hands to get his attention. “Come to Mama.” He squealed but stayed put, kicking his legs, more interested in trying to gnaw on the ear of his stuffed bear. I sighed dramatically, flopping onto the couch. “He doesn’t love me anymore. Only his toys.” Alex’s laugh rumbled from the kitchen doorway. “Relax, baby. He’s just plotting.” I glanced over my shoulder. He stood there in a black T-shirt and sweatpants, hair damp from his shower, a dish towel slung over his shoulder. His eyes sparkled as he watched our son. “Plotting what?” I asked
WORSHIPPED BY MY DAD'S BESTFRIEND Chapter 71 – Ruined in Slow Motion
SAESHA POV The house was finally quiet. Our son had drifted into his nap, his tiny chest rising and falling in his crib. I lingered by his side, brushing his cheek with my finger, my heart swelling so much I thought it might burst. Behind me, Alex’s voice rumbled low. “He’s out cold.” I turned, finding him leaning against the doorway, arms crossed, his shirt clinging to his broad chest. His eyes were dark, locked on me — not soft like they were when he looked at our baby, but hot, hungry, sharp. “Alex,” I whispered, heat curling low in my belly at the way he stared. He smirked, stepping inside, shutting the nursery door behind him. “You remember what I said this morning?” I swallowed. “That we’d finish what we started?” His smirk deepened. “Damn right.” --- He didn’t rush me at first. He led me into our room, his hands on my waist, his lips trailing over my neck. Every kiss was unhurried, every touch deliberate. He undressed me slowly, tugging at my clothes piece by piece u
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