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Todos os capítulos de The Fathers of My Child?: Capítulo 141 - Capítulo 150

200 Capítulos

CHAPTER HUNDRED AND FORTY-ONE

#Dorothy’s POV#The oats taste like nothing. I chew slow anyway.I told them not to add sugar. I don’t want sweet today. I don’t want anything that makes me feel soft or content or whatever the fuck. I just want peace.My phone is beside the bowl. I glance at it. No new notifications. Just the screen dimming and brightening every few minutes like it’s bored of me ignoring it.I take another spoonful. Chew. Swallow.I tell myself I’m not going to think about yesterday. Not the mall. Not Rico. Not Joel. Not even the look in Joel’s eyes after I told him not to follow me.But my brain doesn’t listen.Because here I am thinking about the fact that the same man who once looked at me like I was a contract… now looks at me like I’m salvation.He begs these days; quick to kneel, quick to cry, quick to promise.It should make me feel powerful. I mean, maybe that’s what a lot of women would want. That reversal. That power. That ability to hold his shame like a leash and make him crawl to me ever

CHAPTER HUNDRED AND FORTY-TWO

#Joel’s POV#Sometimes I wonder if the building will burn down without me. If the company will dissolve into smoke and headlines and lawsuits the second I stop picking up my phone.But I still don’t pick up.I don’t care right now.They’ve called like ten times today. Some lawyer, some investor, one of the board guys. Kel forwarded a voice note saying someone from JY Capital is threatening to pull out. I didn’t even listen to it fully.Benedict Holdings.That’s what it’s called.Not Joel Holdings.My father’s legacy. My father’s madness. His obsession. Let him haunt it from wherever he is.I just want to be here. In this house. With her.I pull open the drawer in the closet where I dumped old hotel key cards and access tags and random junk. I’m trying to find one that might still work for the old security vault room he built downstairs. Not like I want to go inside, but there’s something in there, maybe old documents or equipment. I just want to check.My fingers skim through broken p

CHAPTER HUNDRED AND FORTY-THREE

#Dorothy’s POV#I don’t know if it’s the new clothes, the candles from last night, or Joel’s awkward but sincere smile when he insisted on driving me here himself, but I’m in a strangely good mood today.Like… hopeful.Like for the first time in a while, my body isn’t betraying me.I sip from the water bottle I tucked in my tote bag and stare at the ceiling of the waiting room, humming a random old-school tune as my fingers scroll through random images on my phone. Joel's sitting somewhere downstairs—he asked to follow me into the consult room, but I said no. This part is mine. My body. My news.And for the first time, I don’t feel scared.When the nurse calls my name, I get up slowly. I’m calm. That itself is weird.Dr. Malik is already standing when I enter his office.“Ms. Hernandez,” he says warmly, gesturing to the seat across from his desk. “You’re glowing.”I laugh a little, shrugging. “I’m just hoping it’s not gas.”He chuckles. “Well, let’s see what the results say before we

CHAPTER HUNDRED AND FORTY-FOUR

#Rico’s POV#The rain is coming down so hard my wipers can barely keep up, but I don’t slow down. My hands are gripping the steering wheel so tight my knuckles have gone pale, and I’m leaning forward like the extra inch will make me drive faster.Paulina.Out of all the stupid, self-serving, God-complex moves she could’ve pulled, she picks tonight to run her “truth” podcast launch? And she has the nerve to do it in my city? Nah. This ain’t just her trying to air dirty laundry. This is her kicking the basket while I’m still inside it.I’ve been telling myself for months she couldn’t go lower. That she’d find some new guy to obsess over, some other bank account to leech off of. But no… she’s still here, still orbiting me like a dying star, waiting to explode. And now, apparently, the whole damn internet gets a front-row seat.Downtown’s lights blur under the rain as I pull up near the venue. The place is lit like it’s Oscar night. Cameras, ring lights, a crowd of try-hards in too-tight

CHAPTER HUNDRED AND FORTY-FIVE

#Dorothy’s POV#I’ve been off social media for weeks now. No notifications, no mindless scrolling, no doom spirals from headlines or pictures I shouldn’t be looking at. I don’t even check if Rico’s name is still in the news, and I sure as hell don’t search my own. I don’t want to know. I don’t want to see his face or hear his voice replaying in my head.Tonight the villa’s quiet, except for the patter of rain starting to build in the distance. I’ve been sitting out in the garden for a while, barefoot on the cool tiles, feeling the air get heavier.My phone buzzes on the small table next to me. The name flashing across the screen freezes me.Dad.I just… stare at it for a few rings. I could let it go to voicemail. Pretend I didn’t see. But my thumb moves anyway, and suddenly the call connects.“Hello?” I say softly.“Dorothy,” he says, and his voice is scratchy but lighter than I expected. “Just wanted to hear my daughter’s voice. How are you doing?”It’s always strange when he calls.

CHAPTER HUNDRED AND FORTY-SIX

#Joel’s POV#Her scar is right there under my palm, the faint raised line against the warm, damp skin of her back. It’s thinner than I expected. A pale, almost silvery line in the low light, like the quietest reminder of everything she’s been through. My hand almost hesitates there, like I don’t deserve to touch this part of her, the part that marks a battle I didn’t fight, the part I wasn’t there to protect her from. But I’m here now, and my palm curves around it gently, memorizing the shape, the warmth, the resilience underneath it.I’ve seen it before, in passing, but never like this. Not when she was letting me. Not when my touch was welcome. Never when she’s let me close enough for my touch to mean something. This isn’t me catching a glimpse as she changes clothes, or her covering it before I can even register it. This is her, bare to me, letting me have a moment with it like it’s mine to honor. That trust… it hits harder than I thought it would.I lean down and kiss it. Just onc

CHAPTER HUNDRED AND FORTY-SEVEN

#Dorothy’s POV#The sun warms my face before I even open my eyes. It takes me a second to register that I’m actually… comfortable. My skin doesn’t feel like it’s on fire. My muscles aren’t knotted in defense. I’m not curled in on myself like a wounded animal. I’m just lying here, lying in the middle of his bed, breathing.It’s strange. This bed has only known my body twice in all the years I’ve been in this house. The first was that night, our first time after months of a cold, hateful marriage, and the second was last night. Except last night wasn’t cold at all. We’d been messy, reckless, needy. We’d gone everywhere. I’d ridden him. He’d gone down on me until I couldn’t even remember my own name. And now, instead of regret or shame, I feel… light.I roll over. Joel’s still asleep. He’s on his back, one arm flung over his head, the other resting on his stomach. His mouth is slightly open, his breathing deep and even. There’s no tension in his face. No sharp lines from clenching his ja

CHAPTER HUNDRED AND FORTY-EIGHT

#Paulina’s POV#I’m not supposed to be here. Not in this overpriced airport lounge with fake leather seats, watered-down cocktails, and the kind of forced politeness from the staff that comes with knowing you’re a paying VIP. I should be halfway across the world already. Or at least anywhere else that doesn’t give me time to think.But here I am. Hiding.The glass of white wine in front of me has already gone warm. I’ve been holding my tablet like it’s a weapon, scrolling and scrolling, looking for something, anything, that makes this morning feel less like failure. My nails drum against the screen impatiently, until the tiny breaking news bar slides across the bottom.HERNANDEZ FAMILY CLEARED. LAWSUIT DROPPED.I freeze. My eyes scan the words twice, as if they’ll rearrange into something less insulting. Joel Hernandez—prideful, arrogant, and just irritatingly untouchable—actually managed to clear it. The one thing I was counting on to keep his precious reputation bleeding out in the

CHAPTER HUNDRED AND FORTY-NINE

#Joel’s POV#The folder is heavier than it should be. It’s just paper, a neat stack of signatures and seals, but when Mr. Languini slides it across the polished desk toward me, it feels like someone just handed me the last key to a cage I’ve been rattling since I was twenty-one.“It’s done,” he says, leaning back in his chair. “The New York villa is now fully yours. No contingencies. No stipulations. Clean title.”For a second, I just stare at the folder. I’ve been chasing this for years, long before Dorothy, long before I knew what the word redemption actually meant.The villa… it’s not just a property. It was my father’s carrot on a stick, dangled in front of me like a reward for obedience. That house was wrapped up in the kind of legal knots only he and his army of lawyers could invent. My inheritance, the trusts, the businesses! everything came with strings so tight they cut into me every time I moved. His rules dictated how I lived, who I married, when I produced an heir. And bec

CHAPTER HUNDRED AND FIFTY

#Dorothy’s POV#I’ve never liked airports. Too much metal and glass, too many eyes darting, scanning, judging. So when the time came to decide how I was getting to Boston, I chose the train without even thinking twice. It’s slower, quieter, and grounded. No taking off into the sky where I can’t breathe. No air pressure messing with my head. Just the steady turn of wheels on tracks, the low rhythm that feels like a heartbeat I can trust.Joel is a few feet away, talking to the driver as he gestures toward my luggage. His voice is calm but firm, telling him exactly how to place the bags so nothing gets scratched or thrown around. I stand there on the platform, my hands stuffed into the pockets of my coat, watching him like I’ve been watching him a lot lately. Tenderly.He really has changed, hasn’t he?The old Joel would’ve rolled his eyes at my choice of travel, called it dramatic, insisted we take his jet because “time is money” or something equally dismissive. The old Joel would’ve a

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