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Home / Romance / Crave Me,Daddy's Good Girl / Chapter 71 - Chapter 77

All Chapters of Crave Me,Daddy's Good Girl: Chapter 71 - Chapter 77

77 Chapters

New Rival

**Chapter 76: New Rival**The ultrasound gel was still cool on my skin when Victor Kane delivered the next blow.I lay on the examination table in the private clinic, thirty-three weeks pregnant, my belly glistening under the lights as the technician printed out fresh 3D images of our son—strong heartbeat, perfect profile, already weighing over five pounds. Damien held my hand, thumb stroking my knuckles, when Victor walked in without knocking, tablet in hand and face grim.“We have a new problem,” Victor said, glancing at the monitor where our baby’s face filled the screen. “A bigger one than Selena.”Damien’s jaw tightened. “Speak.”“Lilith Voss.”I sat up slowly, pulling the paper sheet over my belly. “Voss? Is she family?”“No blood relation,” Victor explained. “She took the name legally three years ago after marrying and divorcing one of Damien’s distant cousins. Smart move. It gives her credibility in certain circl

The Business Witch

**Chapter 77: The Business Witch**The smear campaign began with surgical precision.By morning, every major tabloid and gossip site carried the same carefully leaked narrative: *“Isla Harper: Unfit Mother or Gold-Digging Homewrecker?”* Anonymous “sources close to the Voss family” painted me as emotionally unstable, manipulative, and using the pregnancy to trap Damien. They dredged up old photos of me with Alex, twisted therapy notes from the custody hearings, and even screenshots of bitter texts I’d sent months ago when everything first fell apart.Then came the deeper cuts.A “leaked” medical report suggested my stress levels were endangering the baby. Another article claimed I had demanded millions in a prenup. Social media exploded with coordinated hate—thousands of comments calling me a whore, a parasite, a danger to the Voss bloodline. Lilith Voss didn’t do anything as crude as speak my name publicly. She simply funded the machine and smiled

Double Betrayal

**Chapter 78: Double Betrayal**I couldn’t hold it in any longer.The photos burned a hole through my phone and straight into my chest. I waited until morning when Damien was in his home office, sleeves rolled up, commanding his empire like the ruthless king he was. Our son was kicking restlessly at thirty-four weeks, as if he could sense the storm brewing inside me.I walked in without knocking, phone clutched in my hand like evidence in a trial.“Explain this.”I dropped the phone on his desk. The screen lit up with the photos: Damien and Lilith on the rooftop lounge. Her hand on his arm. Their faces inches apart. Her slipping something into his pocket.Damien picked up the phone slowly. His expression didn’t change at first—cold, calculating. Then his eyes lifted to mine, dark and stormy.“Where did you get these?”“Does it matter?” My voice cracked. “You told me she was nothing. That you rejected her complet

Hostage

**Chapter 79: Hostage**My heart hammered so violently I could feel it in my throat.Mia.Marcus Hale had my best friend. The woman who had held my hand through every breakdown, every scandal, every time I questioned whether loving Damien would destroy me. And now she was paying the price for standing by me.“You are not going.” Damien’s voice was pure steel as he blocked the bedroom doorway. His eyes blazed with fury and fear—the kind of lethal combination that made lesser men tremble. “Victor is already coordinating with my security team. We will get her back. But you are thirty-four weeks pregnant with my son. You are staying right here where I can protect you.”I stood in front of him, hands trembling as I clutched my phone. Marcus had sent a new message: a photo of Mia tied to a chair in what looked like an abandoned warehouse, a gag in her mouth, terror in her eyes. The timestamp was minutes ago.*Come alone, Isla. One hour

The Master Plan

**Chapter 80: The Master Plan**The warehouse lights buzzed overhead like dying insects. The smell of gunpowder, saltwater, and rust hung thick in the air, choking me as another contraction rippled across my belly. Thirty-four weeks. Too early. But nothing about this night was going according to plan.Damien knelt in front of me on the dirty concrete, his expensive coat smeared with dust and a streak of someone else’s blood. His hands hovered near my belly like he was afraid to touch me. For the first time since I’d known him, Damien Voss looked truly afraid.“Isla,” he rasped, voice hoarse. “Look at me.”I couldn’t. My eyes were fixed on Marcus Hale, who was being zip-tied by Damien’s security team. Even now, Marcus was smiling through bloody teeth, like a man who knew he’d already won.“Tell her, Voss,” Marcus taunted. “Tell your precious good girl the *full* truth. No more half-confessions. No more convenient omissions.”Mia w

Too Early

**Chapter 81: Too Early**The delivery room lights were too bright. Everything felt too sharp, too loud, too real.I gripped the rails of the hospital bed as another contraction tore through me, low and vicious, like my body was trying to rip itself apart from the inside. Thirty-four weeks. Our son wasn’t ready. I wasn’t ready. Not after everything that had just exploded in that warehouse.“Breathe, Isla. Slow and deep.” The doctor’s voice was calm but urgent. “We’re giving you another dose of magnesium sulfate to try and stop the labor. Just hold on.”I cried out as the pain peaked, sweat dripping down my temples. Mia had been taken to another room to be checked over, leaving me alone with the machines, the doctors, and Damien.He hadn’t left my side.The same man who had knelt on the dirty warehouse floor was now sitting on a stool beside my bed, his large hand wrapped around mine. His knuckles were white. His shirt was still s

Bed Rest

**Chapter 82: Bed Rest**The penthouse felt different when we returned.It wasn’t the gleaming marble or the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the glittering city that had changed. It was me. At thirty-five weeks, my body felt like a battlefield I was barely surviving. My belly was heavy and tight, my ankles swollen, and every movement reminded me how close we’d come to losing our son in that warehouse.Damien carried me from the car straight to the private elevator like I weighed nothing. His arms were steady, but his jaw was locked tight. He hadn’t let me walk more than a few steps since the hospital discharged me with strict orders: complete bed rest. No stress. No leaving the penthouse. Minimal movement.“You’re not carrying me everywhere for the next two weeks,” I protested weakly as the elevator rose.“Watch me,” he replied, voice low and final. “You’re mine to protect, Isla. Especially now.”The master bedroom had been

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