Lahat ng Kabanata ng Claiming Daddy : Kabanata 121 - Kabanata 130

LawrenceI gazed at Stella affectionately as we drove home from a lively dinner chatting about her latest artistic brainstorms. Even speaking rapidly with creative passion, lighting her eyes from within tugged my lips into a helpless smile. Her revived muse was a radiant phoenix rising triumphant from cold ashes - this contest merely an excuse to test long-dormant wings. I would cradle that fragile flame however I could. So when Stella called the next afternoon, babbling brightly about adopting a stray kitten, no objection crossed my mind. Her newly softened heart had ample love to enfold another small being craving shelter. Far be it from me to deny home to this orphaned feline if it brought her joy. "Of course we can keep the little darling," I assured, picturing Stella cuddling the scrawny tabby. A pleasing image for certain, my fierce mate transformed into a cooing nurturer. "Draw me some first portraits of our new addition later?"Stella's delighted thanks warmed me heading

DISCARDED CHAPTER OUTLINES “What do you want again? I told you that you're not my type and that you're ugly as fuck. Whatever happened in the past has to remain in the past,” u frowned as I tasted the lime slice. “And what if I don't want that? What if I want something else? What if I want it to continue like I mentioned the other day?” He asked and I shook my head. “I told you, I don't want to have anything to do with you again, it's irritating enough that you're the only one I remember and I still doubt that you didn't use drugs on me because really, eww.” I expressed my irritation and tried to wheel myself away, but he held me back. “I’ll tell Tina about what you did with myself and her dad if you don't give in now, you don't have an excuse to refuse me anyways. I'm sure you miss little Carl,” I stared at him, no longer able to contain how irritated I was. His dick was probably the only good thing about him, but that had nothing to do with me anymore. “Just why are you

   I paced my office, fury simmering through my veins. The audacity of that petty socialite spewing venom at my Stella out of baseless jealousy and entitlement. This could not stand. I summoned my head of security, Cyrus. His stoic features were set in a somber expression. "It's time we investigate further into this Bijou character's ongoing attacks," I said. "Her irrational obsession hints at ulterior motives." Cyrus nodded. "My team can dig quietly. Wealthy patron circles trade in gossip and rumor." I waved dismissal, trusting him to uncover truths lurking underneath. I sank into my chair, contemplating how to shield my sensitive partner from further toxicity poisoning her creative spirit. She deserved safe space to nurture her unique gifts without such soul-crushing sabotage. Around midnight Cyrus reappeared, his normally implacable facad

 Stella After the night of the gala, we had a great night tonight.  And the next day Lawrence got the bad news that they were late and Stella set her plans in action."I'll find love," I added for the tenth time. "Call me whenever possible." He added.I kissed him on the cheek turning to enter the big Andre's gallery we use as the class.  "Come here." He pulled me into his arms before I could react. "I want more," he nagged. Making me smile and link my lips with his.  He deepens the kiss, his hands roaming all over me. "Babe, I'll be late." I smack his hands pulling away."Arrgh" he let out a sexy groan."Well, I promise tonight." And I quickly pecked his cheeks before I went. And he waved at me. I smiled and waved back. "What would I do without your love?" I muttered aside. As I entered the gallery.

 Stella  Over weeks the abused canvas absorbed simmering shards of pained experience gradually transformed to match renewed hope.  Tentative brush strokes from Lawrence’s delicate wrist directed bolder riotous colour until a discernible image surfaced from the turmoil once paralysing hand and eye. "I'm finally getting it now."  And miraculously the act of creation healed trauma’s lingering bruises somehow. Voice returned to muted wounds so they might strengthen dancing freely under merciful light. The piece we shaped from formless agony portrayed a pale face and straining veins at the crux of choosing bitter untruths for momentary relief, or shouldering short-term darkness to prevent prolonged community corrosion ahead. The lurid almost grotesque contortions depicted the cost of easy betrayal while divine wings hovered