All Chapters of Hiding The Devil Billionaire's Daughter : Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

ZURI'S POINT OF VIEW “Mommy, are we moving again?”Summer’s voice followed me around the bedroom as I folded her dresses into suitcases—every last one of her things, packed and ready to go.“Baby, we talked about this. We’re going to live with Grandma and Daddy now. Remember?”Her little face creased with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Do we have to live with them, Mommy?” She’d never warmed to Helios, and who could blame her? His first impression had been as sharp and cold as the blade of a knife. Then again, I’d never liked my boss much either—him, with the temper of a dragon and the arrogance to match.But bitterness had no place in Summer’s heart. I wouldn’t let her grow up carrying anger like a stone. She deserved a chance to know her father, even if I wanted nothing to do with him. I only hoped he’d try to make things right for her sake.The doorbell chimed the moment we zipped the last case shut. Nanny Tams opened the door, then turned back to me with quiet formali

ZURI'S POINT OF VIEW I fought to calm Summer down—her sobs came in harsh, ragged waves, so violent I feared she’d stop breathing altogether. Only when I whispered that her father had left did her body finally go slack against mine. I knew she was traumatized. She hadn’t let go of me once since she’d walked in on us—her small hands clamped tight around my waist, her eyes wide with terror. She never should have seen that. Never should have watched him lay a hand on me. That image would haunt her long after tonight was over. Mr. and Mrs. Gallagher had bombarded me with questions, and I’d lied through my teeth—just a disagreement, she hates seeing anyone upset with me. They’d bought it, thank god. Now we lie side by side in bed, her head on my chest, her breath warm against my skin. I hum and run my fingers through her hair, trying to lull her to sleep, but she stays awake—her silence heavier than any cry. I’m terrified she’ll be up all night, exh

ZURI'S POINT OF VIEW Weeks slipped by with Helios treating me like fragile glass—waiting for me to wake before we’d share breakfast, his hands moving over the table to pour my coffee, slide my plate closer. The household staff practically glowed at his attentions, but every gentle gesture felt like silk wrapped around a blade. He’d tried more than once to drive me to Gallagher Empire, but I’d refused every time. Paranoia coiled in my gut: What if he tossed me from the moving car? What if there was something in the air to knock me out, then dump me in the nearest river? Was I being irrational? Maybe. But he’d hurt me before—even when I carried Summer. I’d thought fatherhood would tame the violence in him, that we could start fresh. I was wrong. So I rode with Apollo instead. He’d never let me take a cab, insisting his route to see the woman he was courting passed right by the office. I felt guilty turning him into my personal driver, but his daily devotion to her suggested he was

ZURI'S POINT OF VIEW “Baby? Can we talk?” I found Summer face-down on our bed, nose buried in The Last Olympian. She set the book aside and sat up, pulling her knees to her chest as I settled beside her. “About what, Mommy?” “About your father.” Her shoulders tensed. I shifted to face her, crossing my legs on the mattress, and she mirrored my posture—small, serious, trying to be brave. I couldn’t let this go on. The way she flinched when he entered a room, the way she’d run and hide… his mistakes were mine to carry, not hers. She was too young to be caught in the middle of our brokenness. “Sweetheart,” I said, my voice soft as silk, “you can’t keep pushing your father away like this.” I didn’t dare raise my tone—scolding her would only make her dig her heels in. I wanted her to listen because she understood, not because she was afraid. “But he hurt you,” she whisp

ZURI'S POINT OF VIEW “Welcome to The Coffee Club… Zuri? Well, I’ll be damned.” I freeze halfway through the door, my palm still pressed against cool glass. I’d come looking for Jenica, but it’s her cousin Aaron who leans against the marble counter, his grin as warm as the morning light slanting through the shop’s tall windows. “Aaron? What are you doing here? Where’s Jen?” My eyes sweep the quiet space—only two other patrons huddled over laptops, the air thick with caramel and roasted beans. No sign of my best friend. “She had to run an errand—be here in twenty minutes tops.” He pushes off the counter as I step closer, his movements loose and easy. “So, what’ll it be? The usual?” I rattle off my order, and he nods, already punching it into the register. “Got it. Go on—take your spot. I’ll bring it over myself.” I thank him and slip into the corner booth I’ve claimed as my own over the years—worn leather that molds to my bod