All Chapters of Daddy, I found you a wife.: Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

I quickened my steps toward Mason’s mansion, clutching my grocery bag tightly against my chest. My heart thudded faster than my feet hit the pavement. I was two hours late and Mason hated lateness. I’d been supposed to see him hours ago, but helping a lost little girl almost run down by a car find her guardian at the grocery market had taken more time than I expected.He would be angry, I thought. Mason always said time was respect. I’d never missed an appointment with him before.When I reached the gate, I expected it to be locked as always. But to my surprise, the door was slightly open. A strange unease prickled at the back of my neck. Mason was very meticulous about security, he never left doors open.Still, I stepped inside, trying to calm the uneasiness crawling up my spine.The mansion was quiet.“Mason?” I called softly, my voice echoing through the wide, empty living room.There was no response.I heard a faint moan after. A woman’s moan, though low but unmistakable.I froze

My eyes fluttered open and for a long moment, everything felt hazy, like I was waking from a dream that refused to let me go. The first thing that registered was the white walls. The white sheets beneath me. The air itself seemed to hum with a sterile calm that felt almost unreal.It was the complete opposite of my tiny rented room back home. My walls were yellowed from age and moisture, the paint chipped and dirtied by whoever had lived there before me. The bed I usually slept on creaked with every slight movement and had a sunken middle that never let me forget how long I’d owned it.But this bed was soft, felt very fluffy and warm. It embraced me in a way that felt foreign. I sat up abruptly, my pulse quickening. My gaze darted across the massive space of the room, confusion wrapping tighter around me. I didn’t know where I was but one thing was certain, it wasn’t my room. I saw a small figure sitting beside the bed, legs dangling just short of the ground, her tiny hands clutchin

My phone jolted me awake at 6:45 a.m., buzzing like an angry hornet on the nightstand. I groaned, slapping at it blindly until my fingers closed around the case. Mia's name flashed on the screen. Of course. She's probably been up since dawn, slinging lattes and plotting my life."V? You survive the night? Or did the billionaire ghost you already?"I rubbed my eyes, sitting up slowly. The futon creaked in protest, same as always. Sunlight sliced through the blinds, hitting the half-packed box on the floor like a spotlight I didn't want. "Barely. Signed the contract last night. Elias sent it, guy's efficient, at least.""Contract? Damn, girl. You're in it now. What's the vibe? NDAs? Non-compete for your soul?"I laughed, short and sharp, swinging my legs over the edge. My toes hit the cold floor, grounding me. "Nah, just the basics. Room and board, pay on the first. Feels too clean. Like there's a catch buried in the fine print.""Always is with the rich. But hey, beats sleeping in y

Angel's finger trembled on the paper, hovering over that jagged scrawl like it might bite. LEAVE OR DIE. The words weren't hers, they were too sloppy, too adult looking, etched in pencil that had ghosted through from the other side. My stomach dropped, cold and hard, like I'd swallowed ice. Who the hell wrote this? Mason? One of his sleazy friends? Or something worse, lurking in this perfect house?I yanked the drawing closer, heart slamming against my ribs. The stick figures, me with wild scribble hair, Angel tiny and beaming, Leonard tall like a tree, all looking innocent now, tainted. "Angel, honey... where'd you get this? Did someone give it to you?"She blinked up at me, confusion creasing her little brow. No signs, just that wide-eyed stare, like a deer caught in headlights. The broken crayon rolled forgotten across the rug, green wax smearing a lazy trail. She snatched the notepad from her wrist, scribbling frantically: MY DRAW. FROM ROOM. SCARED?Scared? Kid, you have no i

The puzzle box closed shut as Angel shoved the last piece in, her eyes gleaming like she'd just cracked a safe. I ruffled her hair, standing with a groan, my knees protesting from being too long on the rug. "Victory lap? Or straight to lunch? Your call, champ."She hopped up, notepad whipping out: FOOD FIRST. TOAST? Then a quick sign, fingers to mouth, munching motion that meant she was hungry. The kid had priorities. I laughed, scooping the crayons into a loose pile. "Toast it is. But fair warning, I'm no chef. Last time I tried, it came out like hockey pucks." The drawing with that creepy note still burned a hole in my jeans pocket. I'd deal later. Show Elias, maybe. But not now, not with her bouncing at my side.We headed down the hall, her hand slipping into mine, small, sticky, trusting. The mansion's quiet wrapped around us, footsteps echoing soft on the marble. Sun poured through tall windows, turning dust motes to gold flecks. It felt almost normal. Almost like I belonged