Semua Bab Daddy’s Girl [ Her Mother's Husband]: Bab 121 - Bab 130

As soon as we arrive at the sprawling apartment where the party is being held, I quickly realise that either Charlie lied about the populace in attendance or she severely underestimated the party's reach. Because it is definitely more than just my classmates here, there are so many unfamiliar faces, that my anxiety about being in a crowd shoots up. Choking me. Rachel notices me blanking out and directs us to the kitchen where there are several options of alcohol available and people going in and out, taking their choices, mixing lethal cocktails and serving themselves. There is beer, vodka, whiskey, there is even red and white wine. It is a madness. I think I can perceive the smell of weed in the air. I know I am way out of my depths here and immediately decide to leave. But then Rachel quickly mixes a cocktail with more straight vodka than cranberry juice and hands me a cup, I take a sip and decide that I can stay for just a little longer. It is free booze afterall. The music is lo

The car rolls to a stop at the entrance to the mansion. It is close to midnight and I don't snap out of my trance as I make my way to the house. What am I doing here? I am not sure I know. I was led here. That sounds insane. But it is what it is. I need to see Stephane and have him tell me to my face that he is remarrying my mother. That he had no intention of fulfilling his promise to me. That he is really just going to discard me like the time we spent together meant nothing to him. That it was all for nothing. I don't care if my mother will be there. I don't care anymore. I just want him to look me in the eyes and tell me that it was truly over between us. I am still dressed in my party dress. The make-up and heels. My made up hair. I don't look how I feel on the inside. I can't be sure. An upheaval is going on and I am powerless to define it. The security agents at the gate let me in without much hassle. They recognise me as Christine's daughter. Entering the house and a wave o

"Richard?" I whisper, still stunned by her rant. She is exposing herself to the wrong person and it makes me feel conflicted listening to her. She nods in the direction of the bedroom, I follow her gesture and I flinch. He is still there. I can't see clearly if he is still naked, I hope not, but he is there, watching us down here. I see his dark eyes shrouded in even more shadows and I feel fear lick down my spine at the lifelessness in those dark depths. Who is this man? How come I have never met him or even heard of him before?Well the answer is that my mother and I aren't close. Of course I don't know her lovers and whatnot. I barely even know her friends and they are loud and social enough. Also, looking directly at the stranger, I can tell that he is definitely older than I thought him to be. Though definitely younger than my mom and Stephane, but he is also way older than me too. He is middle aged. His body still retains the lean firmness of youth. There is something sinister

I come awake and remain suspended in a dreamlike state for the longest moment, teetering between reality and the slurring dullness of sleep. I am alone on my huge bed and my head is pounding with the hangover migraine that I hate enough to have quit drinking. I only drink when I am undergoing serious stress. So I decluttered my life in a way that I would rarely be in that position. But here we are. With a chilling kind of clarity, I realise that I have been drinking more and more since I married Christine. The stress just piles up. Even before Aleen came into the picture. There is always something with Christine. Some social event she must have me attend with her to save face or uphold her social standing. I was happy to do it, but over time, it just became a chore. All that posturing. It sickened me. I built my wealth with brutal hardwork, all that social posturing didn't matter to me. I run through my memory and realise with a drop of my heart rate that I dreamed up Aleen showing u

Aleen POV:"I am sorry. I am sorry. I am so sorry." Stephane repeats. It doesn't soothe me. Instead his apology enrages me. It is painfully empty. "But why? Why? Did she threaten you? How did she bend you to her will and why didn't you fight for me? For us? Is that how little you think of me? Is that how little I mean to you?" I push at his chest weakly, he lets me go, allows me hit him across the chest over and over again till I run out of gas, collapsing into tears again. Then he pulls me in, stroking down my back, soothing me and letting me cry out my frustration. I calm down after a while. I pull back from him and he lets me go. His face is pulled tight. I think I detect some wetness around his eyes, I can't be sure. But Stephane looks tortured. Like he has aged decades since I last saw him. When I walked in last night and met him in that sorry state, reeking of alcohol, deliriously drunk, I felt my heart ache. He passed out as soon as I had him in bed, he wasn't making much sen