Dear Daughter Book Novels & Stories

Filthy messages deleted immediately after reading. Daddy: My apartment. Friday night. Tell your parents you’re staying at a friend’s. I need my baby girl. Me: Yes, Daddy. I’ll be there. Been dripping for you since we got home. Friday finally came. I told Mom I was sleeping over at my college friend Sarah’s place for a “girls’ night.” She bought it without question. Dad even offered to drive me, but I insisted on taking an Uber. My heart raced the entire ride across the city to Marc’s sleek downtown apartment building.

Confirm what my instincts already screamed. Was Debbie my daughter?

I watch as the pages turn rapidly, then stop. “Well, I guess it has a mind of its own.” Bedelia grumbles, and I roll my eyes. Reaching for my glass of water, I take a gulp as I pick up the journal again and lean back against the headboard, and begin reading. My dearest daughter, Serana, If you are reading this, then I am sadly no longer with you. By now, you will know of the heart scale and what you are. Please, my darling, don’t be afraid, for I am with you always.

she asked, pronouncing gorgeous wrong. Riley’s uncle looked at me and smiled, absolutely charming. “Absolutely stunning,” he said. It wasn’t easy to make me blush but he somewhat achieved it. The kind of man I typically ended up in bed or say, in a street race with after a long night was nothing like the man my daughter chose to bring to me. He was cleaned up and looked responsible instead of rugged and grungy. My eyes followed my daughter as she ran back to his car and opened the door to his backseat. “Liyah?” I called for her, confused.

The books inside the box spilled out. At the top of the spilled books was a painting by my daughter, one that had won an award, now marred by a clear, muddy shoe print. "Can't leave anything behind. Our school believes in finishing what you started," she said, her mouth twisted with heavy mockery. "Furthermore, we wanted to 'communicate' with you in person." She casually adjusted her scarf. "We're sorry your daughter has been expelled, but you need to reflect on yourself for faking injuries and threatening the school. Now you've even lost your job… People like you who break the rules will be outcasts everywhere."

she added. “That’s my girl.” Her father winked at her. “At least someone in this room appreciates me. Thank you, Father.” She finished unwrapping the gift and hid her laughter so she could feign indignation. “What is the meaning of this?” She held up the handwritten book titled “50 Ways to be Nice to Mr. Mitchell so he Won’t Drop You Like Yesterday’s Newspaper in Six Months.”

I begged, tears streaming down my face, "Mom, please listen to me! It's not like that; why won't you just hear me out—" Before I could finish, a series of slaps left me dazed, stars dancing in my vision. As she paused to catch her breath, her voice cut through the air, cold and sharp. "How did I end up with such a shameless daughter? You're the third wheel, and you're accusing her of being the other woman! Get out of my face! I don't have a daughter as pathetic as you!"

I put it to my ear, and I stilled. “Dear ex daughter of mine, I have the betrayer in my grasp, finally. I never knew I had a whore for a daughter. You're just like me, sleeping with my business partner. I have him here. If you want to ever see him again, come to dearest daddy.”

Daniel walked ahead two steps before noticing and coming back. I looked at my daughter. At her face. At the question in it that was both simple and enormous. "Where did that come from?" I asked. "I've been thinking about it since I read your book." "You read my book?" "I found it on the shelf. I've been reading it for two months. I didn't finish it yet but I understand about the name." I looked at her. This person who'd arrived six weeks early and had heart surgery at one day old and had been fighting her way through the world with complete determination ever since.

I unfold the paper and the greetings from the letter feel weird to read especially that it came from her and she never really called me that as far as I can recall. Athijha, My Dear Daughter, It must feel weird when you've read it, right? As far as I remember, I never called you my daughter since then. Sure, I didn't. At least in front of you or in front of anybody. But I did call you mine. You're not aware of it, aren't you?