Semua Bab Daddy's filthy little pet : Bab 181 - Bab 190

Killian’s POVThe second Bianca stepped through the door and Victor’s voice lit up with that fake-happy “Bianca! You’re here. Welcome,” I felt every muscle in my body lock into steel. My hand was already on Rae’s thigh under the table—fingers digging in so hard I was probably leaving marks—but I couldn’t loosen them. Couldn’t breathe right. The room tilted for half a second, the candle flames blurring, Mom’s excited squeal sounding like it came from underwater.Bianca. Here. In this house.Pregnant.Smiling that same soft, calculated smile she used to flash when she wanted something.I hadn’t seen her in over two year. We hadn’t been together in almost three years at that point. The math never added up. She knew it. I knew it. But she’d still looked me dead in the eye and said, “You sure about that?” like she could plant doubt just by saying the words out loud.I’d walked out that night and never looked back.Until now.Mom was already hugging her like she was long-lost family. Vic

Rae’s POVFor a long minute, we just sat there—him rubbing my back, me trying to steady my breathing against the steady thump of his heart. But the words bubbled up anyway, spilling out in a whisper before I could stop them.“I’m scared,” I said, voice muffled against his chest. “Scared that it’s just going to be you and Bianca in the pool house. That she’s going to move in here, with you, in our space. And I’ll be stuck in the main house, watching from the window while she… while she takes everything.”Killian’s hand stilled for a fraction of a second—then resumed, slower, firmer, like he was pressing the reassurance into my skin. “No,” he said softly, but there was steel underneath. “No, angel. I won’t let that happen. She’s not coming anywhere near this place. This is ours. Our sanctuary. Our escape. I’d barricade the door myself before I let her step foot in here.”I pulled back just enough to look up at him—eyes stinging with fresh tears that hadn’t quite fallen yet. His face wa

Killian’s POVI stopped pacing and leaned against the pool house wall, head tipped back, eyes closed. Breathe. In. Out. Like I’d told Rae a hundred times. In. Out. Calm down. For her. Because I promised her. Because if I lost it now, he won. Victor won.Footsteps. Soft. Approaching from the house.I snapped my eyes open—body tensing like a coiled spring.Mom.She stepped out the back door—apron still tied around her waist, a dish towel slung over her shoulder like she’d just finished clearing plates. Her face was soft, concerned, the way it always got when she thought one of us was hurting. She walked over slow—hands clasped in front of her, the garden lights casting long shadows behind her.“Killian, honey,” she said quietly, stopping a few feet away. “You okay?”I pushed off the wall—straightened up. Forced my voice even. “Fine. Just needed air.”She didn’t buy it. Never did. Mom had that way of seeing right through us—me and Victor both, even when we were kids. She stepped closer

Rae’s POVThe smell of fresh pancakes — Mom’s special recipe with cinnamon and vanilla — should have been comforting. Instead it sat heavy in my stomach like a stone. I hadn’t slept more than forty minutes at a stretch all night. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Bianca’s hand on her bump, Victor’s smirk across the table, Mom’s excited face as she talked about “grandbaby” names. And Killian’s voice in the dark, promising he’d fix it, promising she wouldn’t stay.I didn’t believe him anymore.Not completely.I’d come downstairs early — hoping to steal a quiet coffee before anyone else woke up — but Mom was already there, humming softly as she flipped pancakes on the griddle. She smiled when she saw me, the same warm, tired-mom smile she’d given me since I was little.“Morning, sweetheart,” she said, sliding a plate toward me without asking. “Extra syrup, just how you like it.”“Thanks, Mom.” My voice came out thin. I sat at the island instead of the table — closer to the door, easie

Rae’s POVThe pool house had started to feel like the only place left in the world that still belonged to us. Every time I walked through the living room, I could smell her jasmine-vanilla perfume lingering on the cushions. Every time I passed the guest room door, I saw the tiny white baby shoes lined up neatly on the dresser like little soldiers claiming ground. Mom had turned into Bianca’s personal cheerleader: buying extra pillows for her back, brewing ginger tea for her nausea, even pulling out old photo albums to show her “how much Killian looked like a baby himself.” Every coo, every “oh, isn’t this precious,” felt like another nail in the coffin of our safety.So Killian and I had retreated. We spent most of our time up here — door locked, curtains half-drawn, TV on low with some mindless action movie neither of us was really watching. He’d sit on the couch with his arm around me, fingers tracing absent patterns on my shoulder. I’d curl into his side, head on his chest,