All Chapters of A Night In Daddy's Bed: Chapter 51 - Chapter 55

HARRISON'S POVBeing a psychologist was a part of my self I've hidden from everyone that was close to me. All people get to see was the wealthy billionaire Harrison, no one knew this side of me. I went back to the small town where I had my hospital. I walked to work every weekday morning across Regent’s Park. At that time of year, when the temperature had dropped enough to bite through layers, I wore non-slip shoes, a woollen scarf, and what had long since become a permanent frown.Forget global warming. The older I got, the colder the world seemed. That was a fact as far as I was concerned.The sun hung low in the sky, a pale yellow disc suspended in an endless wash of grey. Joggers slipped past me with their heads down, their trainers leaving dark, fleeting patterns on the wet asphalt. The gardeners were meant to be planting bulbs in preparation for spring, but their wheelbarrows were filling with rainwater instead. From the path, I could see them huddled inside the toolshed, smoki

HARRISON'S POVI've been away for two days and soon Ruby will start asking questions but there was some things I would love to sort out before rushing back to my new life. I had first seen Elisa in a dingy interview room at a children’s home in Brentford sometime in 2015. Back then, I had only just been accepted as a trainee clinical psychologist with the West London Health Authority, still learning how to sit in rooms like that without feeling like an impostor.She came in without hesitation, dropped into the chair opposite me, and lit a cigarette as though I didn’t exist. There was no greeting, no acknowledgment. She was only fifteen, yet there was something in the way she moved that drew the eye and held it a second too long.She leaned back with one elbow resting on the table, the cigarette hovering near her lips, and stared past me at a small, high window. Smoke drifted upward, tangling in the messy fringe that fell across her forehead. Her nose had clearly been broken at some s

HARRISON'S POV I scanned the report quickly, skimming past the dense medical jargon in search of something more telling. The mechanics of her death didn’t interest me nearly as much as the story of her life. I was looking for the quieter clues—the ones people carried with them long before they died. Had she suffered any old fractures? Was there evidence of drug use or sexually transmitted diseases? What had she eaten last? How long had it been since her last meal?Ruiz didn’t bother knocking.“I figured you were milk, no sugar.”He set a plastic cup of coffee on the desk and then patted his pockets, searching for cigarettes that weren’t there. When he came up empty, he ground his teeth instead.“So what can you tell me?”“She wasn’t a prostitute.”“Because?”“The median age for girls entering prostitution is around sixteen. This woman was in her mid-twenties, possibly older. There are no signs of long-term sexual activity or any evidence of sexually transmitted diseases. Abortions ar