บททั้งหมดของ Don't Stop, Daddy: บทที่ 71 - บทที่ 80

The storm from the night before had broken, but the silence it left behind was heavier than thunder. The Steele estate lay under a gray sky, dew clinging to the windows, the gardens glistening in the aftermath of rain. Everything looked washed clean, but Sierra felt no such relief. The quiet pressed in on her chest, as if the house was holding its breath, waiting.She lingered at her bedroom door, listening. The hallways were hushed, yet the faint clink of porcelain drifted from below the sound of breakfast being laid out. Her stomach churned. She knew Vanessa would be waiting.Gathering herself, Sierra descended the staircase, each step echoing too loudly against the marble. In the dining room, Vanessa sat poised at the head of the table, a vision of elegance in a pale cream dress. She was buttering her toast, her movements unhurried, almost serene.“Good morning, darling,” Vanessa said without looking up. Her tone was smooth, honeyed, but it carried a weight that made Sierra’s skin

The Steele mansion had always been a house of masks, but that night the game felt deliberate.Vanessa moved through the great hall with effortless grace, the sweep of her crimson gown catching the light of the chandeliers like fire stitched into silk. Her laughter rang out bright, melodic, deceptively warm as servants carried trays of champagne and wine into the parlor. The scene could have belonged to a magazine spread: a midnight gathering, elegant and intimate, where power and beauty converged beneath painted ceilings.But Sierra knew better.Every detail was timing, the guest list, the little whispers of “let’s have something casual, something fun” was curated. This wasn’t hospitality. This was theater. And she was the unwilling star.Damien stood beside her, immaculate in a tailored suit, his hand resting at the small of her back. His touch was grounding, but his posture was tense, his green eyes scanning the room with predator’s caution. He, too, knew what this evening was.Vane

The storm outside had broken sometime in the early morning. Sierra woke to the low rumble of thunder rolling across the horizon, the steady patter of rain against her window. For a fleeting moment, cocooned beneath the heavy blanket, she allowed herself to believe the sound could wash her clean, drown out the chaos inside her head.But when she turned, Damien’s side of the bed was empty. Cold.The knot in her stomach tightened. He had been restless the night before, pacing the room long after she begged him to rest. She knew he was planning, calculating, but the more he schemed in silence, the more she feared even he wasn’t sure how to win this war.Sierra dressed slowly, choosing a simple blouse and dark skirt. Nothing flashy, nothing Vanessa could twist into vanity or seduction. She had begun to second-guess every choice, every gesture, every word she spoke within the mansion’s walls. It was exhausting, like living with a mirror trained on her at all times.The house was awake when

Shadows of DoubtThe morning after Vanessa’s dinner lingered like a bruise. Sierra woke with the memory of every glance, every too-long pause, every whispered word that had been meant to break her. Even now, with the sun piercing through the curtains, she felt as though the house walls were whispering back to her.At breakfast, Vanessa hummed while buttering her toast, looking as fresh as if she hadn’t orchestrated a psychological siege the night before. Damien, tense and silent, scrolled through his phone with one hand and tapped the table with the other, a steady rhythm Sierra knew meant calculation.When Sierra tried to excuse herself early, Vanessa’s voice stopped her at the door. “Oh, darling, don’t forget we’ve guests this afternoon. Old family acquaintances. I know how you love reunions.”The sweetness in her tone made Sierra’s blood run cold.Damien looked up sharply, but Vanessa had already returned her attention to the toast, as if she hadn’t just dropped a dagger between th

The Steele estate glowed with soft candlelight, the kind meant to make every corner seem warm and inviting. But to Sierra, it felt like a stage every polished glass, every glittering chandelier, every perfectly arranged flower a prop in Vanessa’s carefully curated illusion.Tonight was one of Vanessa’s infamous dinner parties. A tradition Damien tolerated, but rarely enjoyed. It was a performance, a showcase of wealth and control, where Vanessa could strut in her silks and diamonds, smile that poisoned smile, and remind the world and Sierra that she was the lady of the house.Sierra descended the wide staircase slowly, her black dress clinging to her in ways that made her feel exposed. Damien had chosen it earlier that day, his hand smoothing the fabric against her hip as he murmured, “I want them all to see what I can’t have.”Now, under Vanessa’s watchful gaze, Sierra wasn’t sure if that had been a reassurance or a threat.At the bottom of the stairs, Vanessa greeted her with a smil