All Chapters of Let Me Go Daddy, I Am Engaged To Your Son!: Chapter 121 - Chapter 130

Iris’s POV The highway stretched ahead of me like a gray ribbon pulled taut across the belly of the state, and I drove with both hands on the wheel and the radio off because every song that came on was about love or heartbreak or some combination of the two, and I had reached my quota for all three. The sun was setting behind the trees in shades of orange and pink that felt personally offensive given the circumstances. How dare the sky look like a painting when my life was in shambles.I had been driving for nearly an hour with nothing but my own thoughts for company, and my own thoughts were terrible company. They kept circling back to the coffee shop, to Victor's hands folded on the table like we were negotiating a merger, to the way he had laughed when I told him I was done. He just gave a short and humorless sound that made me feel like I had missed a step in the dark. He had looked at me with those eyes that had always seen too much and told me I was rewriting history to make

Victor’s POV "Start making calls," I said. "Reach out to every contact you have, every informant, every source. Someone knows something. Someone saw a vehicle on that road, someone heard something, someone talked to the wrong person at the wrong time." "I'm already on it. But Victor, there's a chance this isn't about her. It could be about you. Someone trying to send a message by taking something you care about." The thought had already occurred to me, and it made my blood run cold. I had enemies. A man in my position always had enemies. Business rivals I had crushed, partners I had betrayed, competitors who had spent years looking for a weakness they could exploit. Until Iris, I had no weaknesses. Until Iris, I was untouchable. She had changed that simply by existing, by becoming the one thing in the world I couldn't afford to lose. "If someone took her to get to me," I said slowly, "they'll reach

Marcus’s POV I had been sitting in my office at the company headquarters, a building I had not set foot in since the tabloid story broke and my face became synonymous with humiliation. But bills needed paying and work needed doing, and I had decided somewhere in the haze of the past few weeks that I would not let my father's sins drive me out of my own life. The voicemail had arrived as I was reviewing quarterly reports, her name appearing on my screen for the first time since I walked out of our house and didn't look back.I almost didn't listen. I had deleted every message she sent without opening it, had forwarded every text to a folder I never looked at, had trained myself to stop hoping her name on my phone meant something other than another apology I wasn't ready to hear. But something about the length of this one made me pause. Forty-seven seconds. Most of her messages were under ten, brief and broken and full of words she couldn't quite get out. Forty-seven seconds meant some

Marcus's POVThe list my father sent me contained four names, and I knew two of them by reputation alone. The first was a security consultant who had been on Victor's payroll for over a decade, a man named Gerard who specialized in what my father euphemistically called "sensitive acquisitions." The second was a former intelligence officer who had traded government secrets for private sector money and never looked back. The third and fourth were lower level operatives who handled logistics and surveillance, the kind of people who knew everything about an operation but had no stake in its outcome.None of them were answering their phones.I stood at the edge of the crash site while the police finished their preliminary investigation, my phone pressed to my ear and my father pacing behind me like a caged animal. Iris's parents had been taken to the station to file a formal report, and her mother had gripped my arm before she left with a desperation that made my chest ache. "Find her," sh

Iris's POVThe morning passed in a blur of forced choices and false compliance, each hour bringing a new delivery and a new opportunity to pretend I was playing along. Margaret returned at ten with another team of assistants, this time carrying handbags that cost more than some cars I had owned. They lined them up on the chaise lounge near the window like soldiers awaiting inspection, each one positioned just so, each one waiting for me to acknowledge its existence."The boss thought you might appreciate some accessories," Margaret said, her voice carefully neutral. "He said a woman of your stature should have options.""My stature. Does the boss always talk about me like I'm a collectible he's acquired?"Margaret didn't answer. She just gestured toward the bags and waited.I walked over to the display and pretended to examine them, running my fingers over leather and suede and exotic skins I couldn't name. They were beautiful, objectivel