All Chapters of Is It Wrong I Want Daddy So Bad? : Chapter 171 - Chapter 180

Roman (Past)“He won’t give up unless we give him something,” Marcus said. “He wants every potential threat eliminated. He won’t stop hunting until he believes the heiress is dead.”“Then give him something. A body.”“I’ll make arrangements and see if we can find a dead girl who shares the heiress’s features. That should convince him to call off the hunt.”“Good.”Erica reappeared a moment later, this time carrying her luggage.“I need this sorted once and for all before the weekend,” I said, ending the call with Marcus. I finally turned to face her fully.“Where’s Raven?”“I put her to sleep,” she answered, her hand tightening around the handle of her suitcase.“And where are you going with that?” I asked, my gaze lifting from the luggage to her face.“I can’t stay here anymore. I don’t want any part of this. I swear I’ll disappear. You’ll never see me again. I’ll never tell anyone. Just… please let me go.”“You signed a contract,” I reminded her.“I’ll pay you back. I promise.” She

RomanThe Diamond Club sits behind an unmarked door on a street that doesn’t appear on any map worth finding.I’ve known about it for years. Getting inside has taken considerably longer.Two of Gerald’s men are positioned at the entrance when I arrive. They see me coming and the shift in their posture is immediate, hands moving before I’ve reached the bottom step.“Private event tonight,” the larger one says.“Move,” I say.“Mr. Bellerie—”My men come up on either side of me. Gerald’s men reach for their weapons. My men reach faster.The street goes very still.Six men with weapons drawn on a quiet Thursday evening, nobody moving, everybody calculating.“There will be a bloodbath on this pavement,” I say quietly. “And I promise you, I won’t be the one going down.” I hold the larger man’s gaze. “So think carefully about the next five seconds.”A voice from inside.“Let him through.”Gerald’s voice. Controlled. Reluctant in a way that costs him something.The men step asid

RomanThe house is calm when I come home. I loosen my tie walking down the corridor, already tired in the way that sits in your bones rather than your eyes, the Diamond Club meeting having taken more out of me than I want to admit. Not physically. Just the particular weight of years of patience finally converting into action.I push open the bedroom door.The en suite light is on, the door open, steam drifting into the bedroom in soft curls.I hear water moving.I walk to the doorway.Raven is in the bath, hair pinned loosely up, the water deep and warm, her knees drawn up slightly, her head resting back against the edge. She opens her eyes when she hears me and something in her face settles the moment she sees me, the way it always does, like she’s been waiting all day to see me. “You look exhausted,” she says.“Long day.”“I made dinner.”“It can wait.”She watches me shrug off my jacket. Hang it on the back of the door. Work through the buttons of my shirt.She move

RomanThe glass is in my back before I fully register the sound.One moment I’m stepping into the bedroom with Raven in my arms and the next the window explodes inward and I’m taking us both to the floor, covering her body with mine, my shoulder and back absorbing the impact of the fall and whatever came with it.Silence.Then my men are in the room.Four of them through the door in under ten seconds, weapons drawn, Marcus sweeping the window line before anything else.“Stay down,” I tell Raven, yanking the duvet off the bed and draping it over her naked body. “Roman—”“Stay down, baby.”She stays.Marcus moves to the window frame, staying low, reading the angle of the shot. He studies it for a moment then straightens and looks at me.“Rooftop,” he says. “Building across. Minimum four hundred meters.” He glances at the two men behind him. “They’re gone. Single shot, clean exit. This was planned.”I push myself up off the floor.I feel the glass shift in my back as I move

Raven(past)Mum had been different for weeks.Not different the way she sometimes got when she and Dad argued and went cold on each other for a few days. Different in a way I didn’t have a word for yet. Withdrawn. Somewhere else even when she was standing right in front of me. And the yelling had started, sudden and sharp over nothing, over a glass left on the counter or a door closed too loudly, and I flinched every time because she had never been a yeller. Not at me. Never at me.Saturday morning she seemed better.That was the thing I kept coming back to afterward. She seemed better.She was in the kitchen when I came downstairs, moving around with something that looked almost like her old energy, and I sat at the counter and let myself believe that whatever had been wrong was passing.We made sandwiches together. She let me cut mine into triangles the way I liked and said nothing about the breadcrumbs I left on the counter.For a little while it felt like her.Then she l