บททั้งหมดของ Wanting His Father; Daddy Dom/ LG Forbidden Romance: บทที่ 1 - บทที่ 10

IRISI stand at the front of the church and think, with an odd, dispassionate clarity, that nothing has ever felt less like a beginning.The air is cool and smells faintly of lilies and old stone, a ceremonial chill that presses against my skin through silk and lace. My wedding dress is heavier than I remember from the fittings, weighted with intention, with expense, with the silent labor of women who will never know my name. During the nuptials, I keep my hands folded because it gives them something to do, and also because if I let them rest at my sides, I'm afraid they'll tremble and someone will surely mistake that for bridal nerves and excitement.This isn't nerves, and it sure as hell isn't excitement. It's awareness, it's acceptance. I'm not in love, and I'm not even pretending to be.That's the truth of it, stripped of all ceremony. I've stepped up to this church altar because retreat was no longer an option. The dress is a gorgeous trap, pressing me into stillness. I'm acutely

THOMASI see the moment it hits her. The guilt. The fear. The horrifying discovery that she's already broken something sacred and expensive just by wanting.Most people never understand just how loudly their bodies speak, but I've built an entire life around hearing what others miss. It's how I've closed deals, demolished rivals, bent rooms toward the outcome that I wanted without ever raising my voice.It's how I became very, very rich. I didn't become a billionaire by mistaking reactions.Iris Caldwell feels my attention the moment it settles on her, as strong and sure as a physical touch. Her body answers before her sense can intervene, a subtle but unmistakable softening that moves through her. It's brief, almost invisible, but it's there:Arousal.I watch her realize it. I see those mint-green eyes change behind the veil: the flicker of panic, the way her focus collapses inward as the contract asserts itself inside her mind. I can almost hear the clauses snapping into place, the

IRISWhen we get to the hospital, my thoughts tumble like a box of toys down the stairs: Why a hospital if Edward is dead? Is he dead? Maybe he's just in a coma?But I know the truth, even if a doctor hasn't actually spoken the words to me. I saw his eyes after his father turned him over, saw them wide open staring at the sky, blue and blank; I saw the blood seeping from his head, blood that's now all over my dress, my hands.It's odd how everything happens far too quickly and also not nearly quickly enough. Hands guide me through doors that I don’t remember appearing in front of me. Someone asks me basic questions that I have no clue how to answer – my name (have I taken Edward's name even though I haven't officially changed my own?), the date (how can Edward's wedding day also be his death day?) – and when I hesitate, when my voice stutters on words that feel suddenly unreal, a nurse’s expression tightens with something like pity.A widow less than ten minutes into her marriage, she

THOMASAt the formal confirmation of Edward's death, the waiting room gets impossibly loud. Sound gathers and rebounds, and Iris sits at the center of it utterly still, as though whatever force knocked the air from her lungs has also pinned her in place. Bloody silk pools around her feet, dulled now, the dress no longer ceremonial but accusatory, as if it has turned against her for believing the day might hold.The hallway outside the emergency ward has begun to swarm with the media, reporters all straining to get a photo of Iris, and I can't allow that to happen. She's starting to unravel, and the last thing I want is for her to have this image of her thrown in her face, over and over, for the rest of her days.I need to protect her.I keep my voice low when I speak, not because I'm afraid of being overheard, but because I know it's the better way to reach her:"Get up, Iris."She rises immediately, the movement costing her more than she intends to show. I feel the instability in her

THOMASI didn't ask Iris if she wanted to come home with me. Want implies choice, a clear and blue horizon bright and wide enough to consider alternatives. She has none of that left, and I'm not cruel enough to pretend otherwise. What she needs now is certainty, something solid enough to rest against while her world rearranges itself.I guide her out of the hospital without touching her, but she walks close to me, her steps unconsciously syncing to mine. She doesn't look around or look up, she doesn't ask any more questions. She lets the doors open and close for her, lets me navigate the corridors, the exit, the night air waiting beyond.Outside, she shivers, and I notice immediately. It's a cool April evening and anyway, the shock has to be fully settled into her bones by now. I take off my suit jacket, wrap it around her slender shoulders, allow myself to really touch her for the first time. I can't help but notice how small she is in this moment, how fragile, and something kicks me