All Chapters of All Yours, Daddies: Chapter 111 - Chapter 120

RONAN To err is human, to forgive is divine. It’s a good thing I’m not fucking named divine. The gates to the Langford estate groan as they open. Malachi and I step out of the car in silence. No words are needed. There’s a weight pressing on both of us—rage, guilt, years of torment, and the bleeding image of Sarah’s almost lifeless body in Jaxon’s arms.Now the last one I can never forget. No matter what. It’s tattooed permanently in my brain. It’s a horror I’ll never get over or forgive myself for. I take the lead. The closer we get to the underground room where Abel promised to keep him, the stronger the stench of blood becomes. It’s thick. Metallic. Almost sweet.No. It’s really sweet, because I know whose blood it is. We step inside, and there he is.Chained. Stripped from the waist up. His skin is a beautiful canvas filled with red marks and purple bruises, some parts of his skin still ooze out blood. His arms are stretched tight above him, with his wrists chained to the c

SARAH “You can be rest assured. I would have you speak to one of our leading obstetricians, and…”“I’m sorry, what is your name again?”My question annoys her. She stands straight, head held high, and pulls the both sides of her labcoat together. “I’m doctor Finch. Marilyn Finch.”I plaster a fake smile on my face. “Good. Doctor Finch, I’m not sure what type of prank my brother must have arranged with you before now. He does have a twisted sense of humor, trust me. But can’t you lose your license for lying? Because I promise you, he didn’t pay you enough for this.”She frowns. That’s how I know she’s not joking. It feels like another blade has been pierced into my chest. “You’re currently shocked, so I would try not to be offended by your opinion of me, miss Wellspring. But I’m not lying, neither am I playing pranks. You are pregnant. Six weeks pregnant. And we did lose one of your triplets to the unfortunate accident that happened to you…”Pregnant? Accident? Did they really te

SARAH “You don’t need to talk to him if you don’t want to.” Julian whispers as he leans into my ear. If Jaxon sees this gesture, if he’s annoyed by it, he doesn’t show it on his face. Instead, he keeps his eyes solely on me, completely ignoring the man standing next to me. I’m quiet as well, not daring to make a move. A part of me wants to tell Jaxon off and walk away, but a greater part—the one that’s still in love with him and his brothers—wants…no, needs to stay back and hear him out. I fear I won’t forgive myself if I don’t. When he finally stands in front of me, Jaxon’s caring gaze dances all over my face. He finds it hard to stare at one thing in particular, as though he has to fight the urge to take in all of me, to be sure I’m really the one in front of him. “It’s…it’s really you. I’ve been dying to see you for a long time, but they wouldn’t even let me leave the room.”By “they”, I’m sure he means his brothers. From what I remember about that dreadful night, Jaxon was th

SARAH Sometimes, all it takes is just a gentle brush on the cheek to take you ten years backwards, down the memory lane. Only, my journey is more than ten years away. It’s almost twenty. Back to the night the police showed up at our doorstep to let Kevin and I know that our parents were dead. They never came back from date night. Kevin’s congratulatory dinner was in the microwave—mom had made it last night to celebrate his entry into college. He had decided to heat it up before mom and dad returned from date night with some food for us. The microwave overheated and caused a fire. That night, we didn’t only lose our parents, but more than half of our house…burnt to the ground. We sat on a long bench in the police station just like this, in this exact position; Me, swollen eyed and tired, with my head on his shoulder. And him, back against the wall as he squeezed my knee. Till now, it’s hard to tell if the hand on my knee is there to ground me or himself. Whichever way it goes,

RONAN “Now, now, detective…?” My right brow flicks up, my fingers are interlocked merely inches away from my face as I rest my back against the soft leather of my favorite sitting room sofa. She struggles with biting her lip for what—The tenth time? It’s growing harder to tell if it’s mere irritation or something else. My money is on the former. She doesn’t seem like the type for the latter. “Caroline,” she says, head held high with the same false sense of bravado I’ve seen in her colleagues. They’re all the same people. Monolith. Boring. My gaze drops to the name badge on her neatly pressed black suit. “Caroline Walters.” She continues, as if to explain the relationship between the first name she had uttered and the one on her badge. The faintest smile brims at my mouth. “Caroline Walters. You and your men have questioned my brothers and I several times across the board. And we’ve complied, even followed you to the station. You promised to be discreet, but a picture somehow