Burat Ni Papa Novels & Stories

"But how about you?" "I will be fine." "But Mama. I don't want to stay here anymore. I was so scared last night. What if he'll hurt you again? We need to escape from here. Who is my Papa? Maybe we can ask for help from Papa's relatives or help from the police? I heard that bad guy say my Papa's name is Zachary ." "Yes, your Papa is Zachary, Zachary Anderson ." "Zachary Anderson? The son of Zoren Anderson, the owner of Anderson corporation?"

“You want to sleep with Papa,” He nodded his head and I smiled. “Okay, come—” “But he isn’t Papa, mommy.” I froze, a shiver running down my spine “What?” “Papa has a star on his arm, Mommy.” his eyes traced Atlas. “He doesn’t have it!”

papa said something for the first time. "I will papa, he is waiting for that only. He will come very soon. "I told him with a smile. "Now finish your dessert and go to your rooms," Mumma ordered us and I ate my dessert but I could see that Stuti had lost her Interest in that dessert.

he's not going to allow me back, but I want t go back. "No go back to wolvies," I cry out wanting to get back to them. "No," papa says in a very cold voice making me cry, he only shushed me, I was so angry at him that I bite down on his hand, the one near my mouth, doesn't he remember that I love biting things.

Papa started drinking slowly, but soon, he guzzled the contents of the bottles as if he were drinking water. "She's coming back!" Matteo repeated to himself, as he returned to his position at the door. "You look like a dog, you damned mutt." Papa scolded before he hiccupped and began to speak again. “I'll get that bitch, don’t worry.” The words reassured Matteo. Even though he didn’t like Papa, whenever Mamma left for a long time, he always brought her back as if he knew where she was. He was always thankful for that, so Matteo tolerated every insult his father threw at him as he drank.

“Ha? Excuse me?” He sighed deeply and looked away, as if searching for strength. She saw the heaviness on his shoulders, the dark circles under his eyes, the weariness written all over him. He looked close to breaking. This wasn’t the proud, commanding Lukas she knew. This was a different man—one who was tired and struggling. She swallowed hard. Why was he bringing up babysitting again? She thought he had forgotten about it. She never knew if he was serious before or just teasing her.

he said, his full stop a question mark. I pushed back after giving him a hug and straightened with the brightest smile I could manage. “Use me to your fullest, Papa.” And his thin lips curled up in a huge satisfied grin. “I will, my dear, I will.” I figured that the more work he gave me, the closer I’ll get to the password. It isn’t my mother’s birthday either. So what the fuck can it be? What is Papa keeping in that safe? I’m dying to find out.

He looked younger, his face free from the tension that would later be etched into his features. “But Papa I'm so hungry,” eight-year-old me complained and he laughed softly. “Cara mia,” my mum chipped in, “I'm almost done just be patient okay.” “Yes, mama,” I said quietly. Then the scene changed, this time we were in the sitting room, and I was four. Papa was humming softly, seated on the couch with a newspaper in his hand. “Vittoria,” he called, his deep voice warm and gentle. “What are you drawing, amore mio?”

She is aware of the fact that she is adapted. She reached her home, she opened the door very quietly and tip toed towards her room as she didn’t wanted to wake her papa. Suddenly she heard her father “welcome back” she got scared and turn around and hugged her father “I missed you papa” Babi said while kissing her father “I missed you too darling. Come on let’s eat” “Don’t tell me you didn’t eat last night?” “No baby I ate but very little you I can’t eat alone. Let’s leave it I’ve already prepared breakfast, your favourite bacon and chicken salad”

Even Papá had to close his eyes for a second before speaking. “Maxime,” he said gently, holding back a smile, “we do not wait for our siblings to pass out for bread.” “I’m just planning,” Max said. Issa clutched her bread to her chest. “See? He’s a predator.” Papá pointed at Max’s plate. “You eat your own.” “But if I steal—” “No,” I said. “Wow.” Max let out a dramatic sigh. “Everyone here is anti-business.” “Everyone here is anti-tiny psychopath,” I muttered.