All Chapters of Daddies Taste Better : Chapter 81 - Chapter 90

“I’ll be going to sleep now,” I let out, drawing their attention. Mia’s mouth opened instantly. “Thea—” But I cut her off before she could even finish my name. “I feel sleepy.” The lie tasted like ash. I wasn’t sleepy. I was wide fucking awake—heart slamming against my ribs, skin crawling, every nerve lit up like I’d been electrocuted. But I needed out. Needed to not be in this room with Amelia’s careless bombshell still ringing in my ears and Mia’s guilty eyes boring holes into me. Mia took another half-step forward, hands hovering uselessly in the air like she wanted to grab me but knew I’d flinch. “Thea, wait… please. We can talk about this. You don’t have to…” “I said I’m tired.” My voice cracked on the last word, but I didn’t care. I turned away from both of them, coat still zipped up to my chin, boots still on, bag still slung over my shoulder like I’d never intended to stay. Amelia snorted from the couch, stretching like a cat who’d just knocked a glass off the cou

The door swung inward and for half a heartbeat, I thought it was her. Some stupid, reckless part of me had already lined up the excuses and relief. My mouth even twitched like it was ready to say her name.Instead, I was met with a short woman in sensible shoes and a pressed uniform, one hand still on the knob, the other clutching a caddy of cleaning supplies like a shield.We stared at each other.Her eyes widened first.“Oh—!” she gasped, stumbling back a step like I’d materialized out of thin air. “I…I’m so sorry, young sir. I didn’t know anyone was in here.”The housekeeper. I straightened slowly, pulse still hammering, irritation flooding in to replace the leftover heat crawling under my skin.“What are you doing in here?” I asked, already knowing the answer and hating it anyway.She glanced past me into the room, eyes flicking to the bed, the dresser, the half-open blinds and her expression softened in that polite, professional way people used when they thought they were doing

I stepped fully into the living room now, arms loose at my sides, posture deceptively relaxed. The three women stood frozen in a loose triangle: Thea closest to me, coat still half-off one shoulder; Mia planted protectively in front of her like a human shield; Amelia several steps back near the hallway, looking like she’d just been slapped across the face with her own past.Amelia broke first.“I need to leave,” she let out, voice thin and cracking. She took one jerky step toward the foyer, eyes fixed on the front door like it was the only exit from hell.Mia’s hand shot out and clamped around Amelia’s wrist before she could take another step. “Hold the fuck up,” Mia snapped, eyes narrowing as she looked between me and her friend. “What’s going on? Why does he look at you like he wants to skin you alive?”Amelia yanked her arm back, but Mia’s grip held. “Nothing,” Amelia hissed. “Let go.”“Bullshit,” Mia shot back. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost. Or a fucking demon.”Amelia’s gaze

The gate lifted automatically a bit too slow for my liking, drummed my fingers on the wheel, jaw clenched, until it cleared enough for me to gun it.The city swallowed me.I drove without direction, windows cracked just enough to let the cold bite my face and keep my head clear.Or at least clearer.Every red light felt like an insult. Every slow-moving delivery truck felt personal. I gripped the wheel until the leather creaked under my palms.“Fuck,” I snarled, slamming my palm against the steering wheel hard enough to sting.The light turned green and I floored it.I didn’t know where I was going and I just needed motion, needed the rumble of the engine and the hiss of tires on wet asphalt to drown out the loop in my head.Thea’s voice kept cutting through anyway.“Don’t fucking touch me.”I laughed, a short, ugly bark that sounded foreign even to my own ears.Look at me.The big, bad sadist who could break women in half and make them thank him for it—reduced to driving around Manha

Mrs. Harlan paused.The room seemed to hold its breath with her.“Maybe,” she said finally after a while. “But it’s still only a maybe.”She let the word settle between us, simple and unadorned. No attempt to reassure or defend or explain him away.Just… acknowledgment. That doubt was allowed. That questions were valid. That love—even the deep, consuming kind—didn’t come with guarantees.She gave my hand one last gentle squeeze before letting go. “Whatever storm this is, dear, it will pass.”I nodded, throat too tight for words.She stood, smoothing her apron the way she always did when she was about to leave a room. “There’s soup simmering downstairs if you get hungry later.”“Thank you,” I mumbled.She gave me that small nod she always gave when she accepted gratitude without needing more words, then turned toward the wardrobe, then opened the doors to see the hangers slid along the rail, a few garments lifted out with careful hands. A pink camisole. The soft black coat I’d worn