All Chapters of Daddy by deception - My ex husband's fake heirs: Chapter 51 - Chapter 60

The report arrived with more photographs than usual.Cathrene opened Samuel’s encrypted file at the small desk in her apartment on a quiet evening, the city lights already dense beyond the balcony glass. She had learned to treat these updates like any other serious document: read carefully, file completely, refuse to let them dictate the temperature of the entire night. Still, the name on the summary line carried its own gravity.**Subject: Jonathan Mercer — Place of Work / Pattern Expansion**The first images showed a modest workshop on the east side of the city, half industrial unit, half converted bay, with open double doors that let the daylight in. Wooden benches. Tools arranged with the particular order of a person who made a living with his hands. Stacks of planed timber. A hand-lettered sign near the entrance that simply read *Mercer Joinery*.Jonathan appeared in several frames. In one he stood over a workbench measuring a length of wood, pencil tucked behind his ear. In anot

Amara’s birthday fell on a Saturday that arrived faster than Cathrene expected.Benjamin mentioned it only once in passing, the way he mentioned most important things — without pressure, without performance. “She turns ten. She’s requested a small gathering in the park near the gardens. Nothing elaborate. She said if I hire a magician she will disown me.” Cathrene had smiled at the time and offered to help with the cake. Benjamin had accepted with the quiet gratitude of a man who still found it slightly surprising when someone offered practical care without being asked twice.On the morning of the party, Cathrene stood in her kitchen carefully writing Amara’s name in dark blue icing across a simple vanilla cake. She had declined the bakery option. Something about doing it herself felt necessary. The letters came out uneven. She fixed them as best she could, then added a small whale in the corner because some diplomatic promises had to be kept.The park was already dotted with a few ot

The invitation came without ceremony.Benjamin messaged late on a Wednesday: *Amara wants to cook. I use the term loosely. She’s requested your presence as an official taste-tester and neutral observer. Casual. Early evening. No expectations beyond surviving whatever she does to the pasta.*Cathrene stared at the message longer than she needed to, then answered: *I’ll bring bread. Someone should contribute something edible with certainty.*Benjamin’s reply was almost immediate. *Diplomacy accepted.*---Their apartment was smaller than she had imagined, but full of the kind of lived-in order that came from a father and daughter who had made a real life together. Shoes near the door. A basket of folded laundry on one end of the sofa. Children’s drawings fixed to the fridge with magnets shaped like sea creatures. The air smelled of tomatoes and garlic and the faint edge of something slightly overheated.Amara opened the door before Benjamin could reach it.“You’re here. Good. The

It happened on a Sunday afternoon, in the middle of something entirely unimportant.Benjamin had invited her to join him and Amara at a small indoor market on the edge of the city — the kind of place with uneven stalls, homemade preserves, and a man in the corner selling wooden toys that looked slightly dangerous. Amara had taken the outing with great seriousness, carrying a small notebook in which she intended to rank “market discoveries” by usefulness and dignity. Cathrene had come along without overthinking it, dressed simply, hair tied back, still faintly surprised by how natural it felt to spend unstructured hours with them.They had stopped at a stall selling honey and beeswax candles when Amara attempted to negotiate a bulk discount for three small jars she had no intention of sharing. The stall owner, an elderly woman with formidable patience, listened to the girl’s formal argument about “supporting young enterprise” and then calmly refused. Amara accepted defeat with dignity,

The evening began without any plan for significance.Benjamin had asked her to meet him at the river walk after work, the same path they had taken before, where the water moved slowly under the bridges and the city lights came on in stages. Amara was with her grandmother. The divorce lawyers had been quiet for several days. Even the investigation had offered no new report. For once, the week had left them a stretch of uncomplicated time.They walked without urgency. Conversation rose and fell — his current restoration project, a difficult board meeting she had handled, the ongoing political career of Amara’s classroom snail. At one point their hands brushed, then brushed again, until Benjamin simply kept hold of hers. The contact was warm and unannounced. Cathrene did not pull away.Near the second bridge they stopped to look at the water. A barge moved downstream in no particular hurry. The air carried the faint metallic coolness of the river at dusk. Cathrene rested her free hand on