All Chapters of Don't Stop, Daddy: Chapter 91 - Chapter 100

The air in the Steele mansion was thicker than it had ever been before, as if the walls themselves had absorbed every whisper, every secret, every betrayal, and now pressed down upon the house’s occupants with the weight of inevitability. Sierra stood at her bedroom window, staring out into the darkened garden. A storm was rolling in, the clouds swelling and bruised with menace. She thought of it as a mirror of her life so close to breaking, heavy with all the unsaid words and hidden sins.Her phone vibrated on the nightstand. The sound jolted her, pulling her away from her thoughts. She picked it up with trembling fingers and saw the name she dreaded most.Vanessa.Her chest constricted. She didn’t want to answer, but she knew she had no choice. If she ignored Vanessa, the retaliation would be worse. With a deep, steadying breath, Sierra swiped to accept the call.“Hello?” Her voice was brittle, a paper thin attempt at calm.“Sierra.” Vanessa’s tone dripped with smooth venom. “I hope

The air in the Steele household had grown heavy, dense with unspoken truths. Each glance across the dining table, each faint pause in the rhythm of conversation, carried a weight that none of them wanted to acknowledge. For days, Sierra had felt the pressure mounting, like a storm swelling over the ocean, waiting to break. Her secret no longer felt like something she could hold in the shadows. It had started to choke her, binding her tighter than any rope Damien had ever placed around her wrists.That night, the house was quiet in the way only expensive homes could be thick carpets and long hallways swallowed sound, turning silence into something oppressive. Vanessa had retired early, citing a headache, leaving Sierra and Damien alone in the living room. The fire burned low, casting an amber glow across Damien’s profile as he poured himself a glass of whiskey.Sierra sat opposite him, her bare legs curled beneath her on the velvet couch. She could feel her heart hammering in her chest

The silence in the Steele mansion felt heavier than usual. Not the comfortable quiet of wealth and power, but the silence of something being pulled too tight, stretched to the point of snapping. Sierra walked through the wide marble hallway with careful steps, her pulse thrumming in her ears, every nerve tuned to the faintest sound. She could still hear Vanessa’s voice from last night echoing inside her head sharp, suspicious, demanding. And Damien’s response was controlled, dismissive, but edged with something darker.She hadn’t meant to overhear them. She’d only been standing near the staircase, frozen halfway up, clutching the banister when Vanessa’s words had spilled out: “You’ve changed, Damien. Don’t think I don’t notice.”It had taken every ounce of willpower not to move, not to breathe, not to let her presence give her away. And then Damien’s low, almost silken voice cutting back: “You’re imagining shadows where there are none.”But Sierra knew Vanessa wasn’t imagining things.

The morning light in the Steele estate should have been soft, golden, reassuring. Instead, it spilled through the tall windows like an interrogation lamp. Every corner of the house felt sharper, every step across the marble floors an echo too loud. Sierra sat at the dining table with a piece of toast untouched before her, her coffee gone cold.Across from her, Vanessa scrolled idly through her phone, but Sierra could feel her eyes lift, again and again, in quiet assessment. It was no longer the casual glance of a wife or mother. It was scrutiny subtle, deliberate, growing sharper each day.“You’re pale,” Vanessa said suddenly.Sierra’s hand tightened around her mug. “Didn’t sleep well.”“The storm?” Vanessa’s voice was light, but Sierra heard the weight beneath it.“Yes,” Sierra said too quickly. “The storm.”Vanessa hummed, setting her phone aside. “Funny. Damien didn’t hear it either. He slept like a rock.”Sierra’s stomach dropped. She lowered her gaze to the untouched toast, forci

The walls of the Steele estate seemed to listen. Sierra had felt it before the uncanny sense that every word spoken here, every glance stolen in shadow, etched itself into the plaster and wood. Tonight, that sensation grew unbearable. The house itself felt alive with suspicion, as though its very beams and panels were straining under the weight of their secret.Damien’s voice broke through the silence, low, sharp, urgent. “We can’t keep going like this, Sierra. Not like this. One misstep, one loose word, and everything we’ve built will come down on us.”She turned to him, her body taut with defiance even as her heart hammered with fear. “Then stop looking at me that way. Stop touching me. Stop pulling me back every time I try to breathe.”He flinched, as if her words had cut deeper than any blade. But even in that moment, his eyes betrayed him. Hungry. Possessive. The eyes of a man who couldn’t let go, who wouldn’t let go.The silence stretched. Somewhere down the hall, her mother’s l