Baki Author Daughter Novels & Stories

There were notes in the margin needs trouble kill the father no make him a ghost. Maya felt sick to her stomach. Her whole childhood, her fathers death, her struggle through school it was all planned out in messy ink and crossed-out sentences. The Teacher whispered to look at the page. Maya flipped to the end. The pages were blank except for one sentence at the very bottom. Maya Benson realizes she is the Author.

Wren fucking Anderson. The daughter of the same bastard who tore my family apart years ago. Richard Anderson. He called himself an acquisition manager but all he was was a greedy and sleazy bastard. Gutted my father’s business, dragged our name through the mud. His crimes were so great that my father didn’t make it out alive. And here is his daughter. His precious, sheltered little girl, fast asleep in my bed. It’s like the universe placed her right in my grip like a sort of fucked up gift.

"Anyone else you think will survive the road." She was quiet for a long time. Long enough that the amber light under the door shifted as someone walked past in the corridor. "There's a woman named Bayang on level one," she said finally. "She was a herbalist before the debt collectors. She knows the mountain passes north of the Tondo border." Another pause. "And a boy named Kael on the surface sorting team. Sixteen. His mother died last season. He has nothing left here to convince him to stay."

she taunted, glancing back at me with a mischievous grin. “Since you’re my daughter, I advise you not to eat anything in the morning; a weak skeleton won’t do.” she laughed, disappearing out the door. I turned to Annabelle. “I guess ‘Skeleton’ is my new nickname.” She offered me a weak smile. I sighed, feeling the weight of the world on my shoulders.

Her tears had dried up, and the once-bleeding knee was cleaned and bandaged with a Paw Patrol Band-Aid. “Daisy Baker, we need to have a word with you.” I rolled my eyes at Anthony’s attempt to intimidate a two-year-old. “Are we declaring a truce or baby wars?” “That all depends on Daisy.” “If my memory serves me correctly, your daughter was the aggressor,” I reminded him. “Nori wrote a check her butt couldn’t cash.” “Ew. You said butt!” Kiyah exclaimed, giggling from behind me.

I grinned like an idiot and took the stuffed flower bouquet from Elayne. "Thanks." Then I went quiet, eyes glued to my phone. Elayne slid her hand over the screen. "Don't look at that." I shook my head. "It's fine. I'm not mad." The camera zoomed in—Mom and some girl in the pic. Caption: [Valentine's Day with my daughter, Tia.] Elayne gave me that look—like she was trying to read my mind. I forced a smile. "I know her. Tia was in the bed next to Dad. She's an orphan. Got better thanks to donations.

The night had settled over the city, soft and luminous, with lights shimmering like fireflies across the river. Lucian and I stood on our balcony, hands entwined, watching the world below. Our daughters—Aria, Arianna, and Arian—were finally asleep, their soft breathing a reminder of the life we had built together, a life full of love, laughter, and the quiet resilience that only comes from surviving storms.

I was so focused on how I’ll be able to get my position as the father’s daughter that I did not notice how much time have passed since I came back from the future. If it is next week, then there’s only few months left before the murder of Sorren will happen. My memories of the days before the murder aren’t that clear. I had to try more to recall the details before the month of May comes. “We need to celebrate it, my daughter,” dad said. “Even though that your real birthday is on November, I am still glad to celebrate the birthday that Sorren gave you.” So my real birthday is November and not May. It is the day of the death, and not the spring.

"Ok, come home tomorrow morning. We have to talk. I love you, little mouse. Never forget that your mother loves you and everything I do is for your happiness. "I don't understand the content of the message, but I'm glad it won't track the girl's cell phone. It would be very bad right now if Augusto Leal found out that his youngest daughter is sleeping in my bed, or not. I smile, looking down at the piece of forbidden meat wrapped like a goddamn gift on my mattress.The thought of making him wonder what his daughter and I are doing alone in a room makes me smile.

I looked from him to the Beta, who was still smirking. “Marcus,” The Beta Mike started. “Your daughter has superseded you, her own father's training, the best warrior and fighter, the royal delta. She is strong and kicked my ass today. As you can see, her technique is flawless, and her wolf, well, her wolf speaks for itself.”