บททั้งหมดของ Your Dad's Perfect: บทที่ 241 - บทที่ 250

ZadeI hold her tightly, every choked sob tearing through me like a knife, and I know—I know I’ve ruined this. She’s cradled against me, her whole body trembling as the waves of her cries slowly fade, leaving behind only the ragged breaths of someone who’s been utterly shattered. And I did this. I let my twisted obsession, my need to keep her close, drag her down into the darkness with me. I know damn well that Grayson’s going to tear me apart, and I welcome it. I deserve it for every moment I let myself touch her, for every step I’ve taken down this path that only ends in hurt.But the worst part is that it’s not just Grayson’s wrath I fear—it’s this relentless, gnawing knowledge that I’ve done it again. That I’ve taken a girl with her own life, her own dreams, and stripped her of peace, of hope, the way I did with Sammi. I keep repeating the same cycle, driven by this unhinged, possessive need to hold on to them, to make sure they are safe.She falls silent, and I look down, seeing

ZadeThe night dissolves into shadows and silence as I sit here, watching Izzy sleep, wrestling with choices that feel impossible. There are two paths: stay, unravel every guarded part of me, and let her see it all—or walk away now, hide everything, and pretend she never mattered. But I know that’s a lie. Walking away isn’t an option, not this time, not with her.I’ve done it a hundred times before. Any woman who stirred something real in me, who might have torn down the walls, I left them in my dust. It was easy, necessary even. But Izzy? I can’t shake her. No matter how much I try to convince myself that she’s too young, too untouched by darkness, the idea of walking away cuts deeper than staying ever could.She shifts, her eyes flutter open, and for a moment, there’s that raw vulnerability that grips me by the throat. She looks around, her gaze lands on me, and she opens her mouth, questions already forming. I lift my head, feeling that if I don’t tell her now, I’ll never be able t

IzzyHe shakes his head sharply, as if clearing away my words. “You wouldn’t understand,” he mutters, voice rough with frustration and something else—something raw.I laugh, hollow and bitter, the sound scraping through the quiet. “Why wouldn’t I? Because I never had a pregnant partner murdered in front of me? You don’t think I can get it, Zade?”His eyes darken, flashing with an anger he barely restrains. “Because you’re a child,” he spits, his voice breaking at the edges. It’s a low blow, and it lands deep.“Oh, so now we’re back to this again?” I scoff, my voice rising. “You calling me a child? Maybe it’s you who can’t understand.”“You said it yourself,” he snaps, cutting me off. “I was twenty—still practically a kid. And you? You’re eighteen. You don’t know anything about this.”His words sear through me, and something fierce rises in response. “Is that right?” I lean closer, chest tight with fury. “Sure, Zade, you can convince yourself that I’m clueless, that I can’t possibly un

ZadeI glance at Izzy, still curled up in the bed, her face peaceful in sleep. A part of me wants to stay, but I know I can’t. Silently, I slip out of bed, dressing quickly and grabbing my phone. Notifications swarm the screen—missed calls, texts, and voicemails. Of course, I’d muted it last night. Eva’s dozens of messages flash in rapid succession, meaning there’s a problem. With a last look at Izzy, I go to the concierge desk, arranging to extend the room until tomorrow, giving her a few more hours of rest.Outside, the midday air is brisk as I ride home, the engine’s low rumble slicing through the streets. Back at the house, I rush up to my room, showering quickly and throwing on fresh clothes, responding to urgent texts on my way out. As I head downstairs, Grayson’s silhouette fills the doorway, arms crossed, jaw tight. Just great.“Look, can this lecture wait? I had my phone muted, and I’m getting swarmed with messages,” I mutter.“All I need is an answer,” Grayson says, his arms

ZadeI sit back, watching Izzy closely, trying to figure out what’s going on behind those hurt eyes. She’s got the wig, the mask—her whole Gabby getup is perfect—but I know better now. It’s Izzy under there, not some tough, mysterious dominatrix from the club. I should tell her she can’t work here anymore; every instinct tells me I can’t have her in these clubs, no matter how good she is at playing pretend. But hell if I can find the words.“You told me to come back, remember?” she says, stepping closer, one brow raised.“Did I?” I try to sound cool, realizing immediately that, yeah, I did.“You said I should come back tonight. Prove it—that maybe I’m good at the game but don’t understand the ‘real world,’” she says, straddling me in one smooth motion that feels anything but innocent.In my head, I’d expected this to go differently. I’d connected the dots about Izzy being Gabby and felt blindsided. I’d planned to tell her to leave the game, rip the wig and mask off, and set her straig