All Chapters of A Night In Daddy's Bed: Chapter 111 - Chapter 120

Ruby’s POVThe loneliness was beginning to eat me alive.Every single day Harrison left before sunrise and returned long after it got dark, looking exhausted and irritated. Half the time he barely touched his food before disappearing into his office again with another file in his hand and his phone pressed against his ear.The entire mansion had started feeling cold.And with my pregnancy hormones making every emotion feel ten times stronger, I found myself overthinking everything.Especially us.I sat curled up on the couch with a blanket wrapped around my body when I heard footsteps downstairs.At first I stiffened.Fear instantly gripped me.Harrison had warned me repeatedly not to trust anyone because of everything going on around Catherine Thompson’s death. The police had practically been breathing down his neck lately and even though he tried to act calm around me, I could see the pressure weighing heavily on him.The front door opened quietly.Then his familiar scent reached me

HARRISON'S POV Thumb and forefinger pinched together, I eased the key into the lock. One turn. Then another. I switched keys and opened the second lock. The door finally gave way with a soft click.A pile of mail spilled across the rug beneath the letter flap.She hadn’t been home in days.My footsteps echoed across the polished timber floorboards as I stepped inside. The lounge still carried that same boutique atmosphere Elisa loved so much, with embroidered cushions scattered carefully across the sofa and Indian rugs layered over the dark wood floors. Somewhere in the silence, an answering machine blinked insistently. The tape had reached its limit and kept clicking softly between messages.I saw her legs first.She lay sprawled across the Elizabethan loveseat, her ankles taped tightly together with wide strips of brown masking tape. Her body had slumped backward awkwardly, and a black plastic garbage bag had been pulled over her head, secured cruelly around her neck with more tape

RUBY'S POV The breeze that afternoon was soft against my skin as I sat beneath the large tree with Harrison beside me. The picnic blanket stretched across the green grass while baskets of food sat open around us untouched because Harrison had spent more time staring at me than eating anything.I could feel his gaze even without looking at him.“You’re doing it again,” I muttered softly while arranging the fruits on the plate.“Doing what?”“Looking at me like I’m about to disappear.”A faint smile touched his lips. “Can you blame me?”I rolled my eyes though my cheeks warmed slightly.Ever since our misunderstanding had been settled, Harrison had been calmer around me. Softer. Like he was trying to make up for every harsh word he had thrown at me during the past few weeks.His hand slowly moved toward my stomach again.I looked down as his fingers brushed gently over my pregnant belly.The movement was so careful.So protective.Almost like he was afraid touching me too hard would br

HARRISON'S POV Three miles was a very long distance when you were running in Wellington boots. It became even longer when your socks slipped down and bunched beneath your arches, forcing you to waddle like a penguin.I scrambled along muddy sheep tracks and leapt between rocks, following a partly frozen stream that sliced through the fields. Despite the boots, I managed to keep a decent pace and only glanced behind me every so often.At that moment I was functioning entirely on instinct. If I stopped moving for even a second, I knew I was finished.Most of my childhood holidays had been spent roaming these fields. I had once known every copse, every hillock, every hiding place and fishing spot. I had kissed Ethelwyn Jones in the hayloft of her uncle’s barn on her thirteenth birthday. It had been my first kiss with tongues and I’d developed an instant erection. She leaned enthusiastically into it and then suddenly screamed, biting hard into my bottom lip. She wore braces and had a mou

HARRISON'S POV The Land Rover barely managed forty miles an hour and had an alarming habit of drifting toward the centre of the road whenever I took my hands off the wheel for a second. It looked less like a functioning vehicle and more like something abandoned in a transport museum. Drivers blasted their horns as they overtook, probably assuming I was participating in some vintage charity rally. In a strange way, it made the perfect escape vehicle. Nobody expected a fugitive to flee quite so slowly.I stayed off the motorways and followed back roads into Lancashire. An ancient road map, mouldy around the edges and dated sometime in the mid-sixties, lay spread across the passenger seat, guiding me through villages with names like Puddinglake and Woodplumpton.On the outskirts of Blackpool, I stopped at a nearly deserted petrol station and locked myself in the restroom. I sponged the mud from my trousers, then stood beneath the hand dryer, holding the damp fabric under the stream of h