Semua Bab Your Billionaire Daddy Loves Your Stepmother's Curves, Ex!: Bab 151 - Bab 159

He looked at me then, really looked, his glassy eyes searching mine. It was like he saw me for the first time as a man instead of just the father who failed him.“Yeah yeah. Everything must be earned. I'm a billionaire's son but everything must be fucking earned," he said, only there was no venom behind his drunken ramble this time. He seemed almost grateful. Like he finally understood what I had been trying to teach him all these years. Honor. Accountability. Discipline. "You done making sacrifices yet? Or did you let your fuck up of a son get you stuck in a new moment of regret and despair?” His gaze flickered around the bar, then back to me. “Where’s Pearl, dad?"The blonde chose that exact moment to run her hand up my thigh, bold and insistent, nails scraping lightly through my slacks.“Come on, baby. Let’s get out of here. I’ll make it worth your while," she whispered sweetly. My head all but exploded. I shoved her hand off me, jaw locked, voice low and dangerous. “You're lu

Pearl's POVI stirred awake slowly to the faint metallic click near my wrist.The sound sliced through the fog of exhausted sleep like a lifeline I hadn’t known I was waiting for. My lashes fluttered open, heavy and damp from earlier tears.My heart stilled. There he was. Derek, my husband, kneeling beside the bed in the golden spill of lamplight, his broad shoulders hunched in quiet focus as he worked the small key into the handcuff.At some point, as the hours ticked away, I convinced myself that he forgot about me. That he was never coming back. It scared the crap out of me. So much so that hopelessness and despair got the better of me and I cried myself to sleep. Even as I watched him now, I still wasn't sure he was really here. Back to see me. His fingers, usually so sure and commanding, trembled just slightly against my skin. The room smelled of him, of us: faint whiskey and that expensive cologne that always clung to his suits, mixed now with the cool night air drifting in f

I shook my head against his chest, denial wrapping around me like armor.“You don’t mean it. No one means it when they say they love me. I’m just there for a time, until something better comes along. Just your whore, like you keep telling me. You’re just another person who wants to use me until I no longer serve a purpose.” The words poured out, laced with every injustice that life had thrown at me. Jason’s coldness, Lena’s cruelty, even my dad’s conditional affection and my mom's indifference. In the end, it wasn't strangers and their fat shaming that ruined my self esteem. It was my so called loved ones and their poor treatment of me just because I weighed more than the average woman. My heart just couldn't take going through the same treatment from Derek. Not after he showed me how it's supposed to be. Kindness. Love. Passion. Laughter. He showed me what it meant to be cared for. Truly. Unconditionally. Derek held me tighter, his arms a solid wall around my shaking frame. One

"I was wrong. Stupid. Naïve. Couldn't save her. Should've been there," he insisted, arms wrapping around me tightly now as his frame shook with how hard he cried. "You were seventeen, Derek. Just a kid yourself. One with big dreams dealt a shitty hand. Jason almost never talked about her, but when he was drunk enough, he'd tell me about her last moments. How she insisted on watching your match before going to the hospital the night she died," I told him with a shaky voice, uncertain I had the right to tell him this story, but too distraught and desperate to console him to care. He pulled back and looked up at me through tear filled eyes and asked in a strained voice, "She did? He never told me." "Yeah," I said with a brave smile. "She saw, husband. She got to see you win. I didn't know her, but I hope your big moment brought her peace, Derek." I had no idea if I was saying the right words. If there were right words to say. But when he grabbed me and held me tight again, I knew the

“Dad, just let me see her for a second,” Jason said, his voice low but edged with not so subtle, familiar hunger as the boxing match roared on the TV above the bar. “Pearl’s pregnant. I am so happy for you guys. I just want to congratulate her in person. Five years married and you two still look like newlyweds in every damn photo. What are you going to do, keep me from the kid his or her whole life?" Derek Nelson set his whiskey down with a deliberate clink, eyes narrowing on his son across the scarred wooden table. Their Friday night ritual of drinks at a sports bar was the fragile truce they’d built since Jason started working at the company. Every time he brought up Pearl it felt all the more brittle. Five years had passed since that chaotic Vegas honeymoon. Five years of Derek choosing Pearl every single day. Of watching her bloom into the fierce, brilliant woman who owned his heart and dominated boardrooms at his side. They had built a life together. A quiet, yet passionat