บททั้งหมดของ Daddy's filthy little pet : บทที่ 151 - บทที่ 160

Rae’s POVThe pool house door opened before my knuckles even finished the third tap. Killian stood there—still in the same black t-shirt and gray sweatpants from yesterday, hair messier than usual, jaw tight even though he tried to smile when he saw me. That smile didn’t reach his eyes. It barely made it past his mouth.“Hey, babygirl,” he said—voice low, rough around the edges like he hadn’t slept much.I stepped inside. He closed the door behind me, locked it, then pulled me straight into his arms like always. I went willingly—wrapping myself around him, face pressed to the center of his chest, breathing in the familiar scent of his skin mixed with the faint chlorine from the pool outside. His arms banded around my back, one hand cradling the nape of my neck, the other splayed wide between my shoulder blades.For a second it felt normal. Safe. Like every other stolen moment we’d had in here.But something was off.His hold was tight—almost too tight—like he was anchoring himself

Rae’s POVI was still curled sideways in Killian’s lap, legs thrown over his thighs, my head tucked under his chin, his heartbeat steady under my cheek. His arms were wrapped around me like he was afraid someone might try to steal me away if he loosened his grip even a little.I glanced at the time on my phone screen, still propped against the pillow on the coffee table11:47 p.m.I sighed—small, reluctant.“I should go back,” I whispered, even though every part of me wanted to stay exactly where I was.Killian’s hold tightened instantly—reflexive, almost panicked.“Nooo,” he whined—voice dropping into that soft, babyish register he only used when he was being extra clingy. “Not yet. Five more minutes. Ten. Fifteen?”I laughed quietly—turning my face into his neck so he couldn’t see how much I wanted to give in.“Baby, it’s almost midnight. Mom’s probably already suspicious I haven’t come down for water or anything.”He pouted—full bottom lip out, brows scrunched, eyes big and pleadi

Rae’s POVThe color drained from her face so fast I thought she might pass out. Her hand flew to her mouth—phone clattering screen-down onto the table. The spilled margarita pooled around it, but neither of us moved to save it.“No,” she breathed—voice barely audible. “No, no, no. That can’t be. Rae, that’s not possible. He… he told me his name was Nathaniel. Nathaniel Brooks. He said he was a divorced history professor at the community college. No kids. No family. He said his ex-wife was out of the picture years ago, that they’d parted amicably, no drama. He never mentioned a stepdaughter. Never mentioned being married now. Never mentioned anything about your family. I swear, Rae—I had absolutely no idea. None. Zero. If I’d known—if I’d even suspected—I would have run the other way. I would have blocked him on the spot. I would never—never—do that to you. To your mom. To anyone. Oh God, I think I’m going to be sick.”She looked like she meant it—face pale as milk, hands trembling so

Rae’s POV I squeezed her hands back—hard.“I know,” I whispered. “I know.”We sat there—hands clasped across the table—crying quietly as the sun beat down on us. The waiter came back—concerned—asked if we needed anything. We shook our heads—sniffling—trying to pull ourselves together.I took a deep breath—braced myself.“Zara,” I said softly. “We have to come up with a plan. We can’t just… react. Not yet. We need evidence. Proof. Something concrete. Because if we go to Mom now—with just a photo and my word—she might not believe us. She might defend him. She might think we’re mistaken. Or lying. Or… I don’t know. We need more. Texts. Screenshots. Maybe a recording if you confront him. Something undeniable.”Zara nodded—fast, frantic.“Yes. Yes, okay. I’ll save everything. I’ll screenshot our entire chat history. I’ll… I’ll text him something incriminating. Get him to admit things. I’ll do whatever you need.”I nodded—slow—trying to think through the fog of heartbreak.“And… I have t

Killian’s POVRae was still straddling my lap, her thighs bracketing my hips, her small frame pressed so close I could feel every erratic beat of her heart against my chest. Her tears had slowed to a trickle, but her eyes—those wide, stormy blue eyes that usually sparkled with mischief or heat—were dull now, shadowed with confusion and pain. She blinked up at me, lashes still wet and clumped, and for a moment, she just stared, like she was trying to make sense of the chaos swirling in her own head.“I… I don’t know,” she whispered finally, her voice cracking on the edges like fragile glass. Her hands, which had been fisted in my shirt, loosened just a fraction, fingers tracing absent patterns over the damp fabric. “I don’t know what’s going on, Killian. None of it makes sense. How can this be real? How can Victor—my stepdad, the guy who’s supposed to be the stable one in our messed-up family—be out there living this double life? It’s so unfair. So unbelievably unfair that things li