Father And Son Novel Novels & Stories

The same hand that had written the letters in the study, the same hand that had written the confession that had been waiting for him since his father died. He opened it. My son, it began. Not by blood, but by choice. By the love your father had for me, and the love I had for him. Alex's hands were shaking. He read the words slowly, let them settle into his chest, let them fill the spaces that had been empty for so long.

I was wrong. A few days passed. I tried to gather myself, trying to survive the shame and the heartbreak. One afternoon, while walking in the city market, I heard a familiar voice call out. "Selene?" I turned around. There stood Adrian, arm in arm with Elara. But beside them stood an older man—tall, broad-shouldered, hair streaked with gray, sharp intimidating eyes, and wearing an expensive tailored suit. It was Adrian’s father. Don Lorenzo. One of the richest, most powerful, and most feared men in the country.

Gregor interrupted, his voice dropping to a deadly, sensual whisper. I froze. Gregor stepped completely into my personal space. He reached out, his cool, long fingers gently brushing away a tear from my cheek. The touch was shockingly gentle, yet it sent a terrifying spike of heat straight to my stomach. “My father is a monster, yes,” Gregor continued, his fingers tracing the line of my jaw. “But I know his wolf. After f*cking his victim, he simply killed them, but you’re here… alive walking around while he’s sleeping calmly….”

He stumbled to his feet, filled with anger, and started punching and kicking Nathan, saying, "You ungrateful child. How dare you hit your own father? Aren't you afraid of facing consequences?" Nathan forcefully pushed him away, saying, "My retribution? I have a father like you, whose values are so twisted. I have your dirty blood running through my veins, and I have long suffered the consequences. Cheating, abandoning my spouse to marry a mistress... Ha, ha, isn't my life just an imitation of yours?" Because the father and son were tearing each other apart so badly, and because their identities were too prestigious, the onlookers in the bar quickly raised their phones and captured the scene

"Oh, Mrs. Pearce, when you put all the blame on me, did you ever think it would end like this? If the report's fake, what about the blood type? You both have O-type blood, so how could Hanley have A-type blood?" Hanley, still in shock, finally caught on. "Dad, what does this report mean? How could I not be your son?" Kennard slapped him across the face without hesitation. "Don't call me Dad. Go ask your mother who your real father is!" He turned to Nicole, who was still staring blankly. "Mom, say something!" Nicole remained silent, her tears falling as she bowed her head. Her silence was as good as an admission of guilt.

“After everything with Adrian, I mean?” “Of course I miss her,” Father said. “Much like Conson, she wasn’t my mate, but she was my partner and my friend. I have three beautiful sons from her. I wouldn’t trade them for anything, even Susanne.” It warmed my heart that he still included Adrian. I knew it meant a lot to my husband.

I'd gotten back everything that was mine, and I had my beloved son by my side. A long time after all of this happened, Timmy saw an action figure in a store and said that he wanted Brenda to buy it for him. I smiled and said, "I'll buy it for you from now on. You can get whatever you want, and I promise you're the only one I'll ever love." I wouldn't be like Brenda. I never would. I was a father, and that meant I had to take responsibility for my son. I owed him that much, and I owed myself that much.

He leaned closer to peck her on the cheek. “Dad?” Santiago’s voice echoed through the kitchen. Domingo quickly straightened up, his hands slid into his pockets, his eyes were on the floor searching for nothing. “You came already?” Santiago asked as he opened the fridge to get a bottle of water. “Good morning to you too, son.” He said. “Hey baby,” Santiago walked over to where Renata stood, his arms circling her waist, just the same way Domingo did a few minutes ago. It was safe to say it was a father and son fetish.

“This is my home.” I stared. “What? You live here?” “Yes.” “What do you mean? Do you work for Antonio?” He shook his head slowly. “No.” “Then who are you?” I asked. He looked at me and said the words that made everything stop. “His son.” I felt the floor disappear. My legs shook and I quickly grabbed the dresser for support. “No... that can’t be true.” “It is,” he said. “Antonio is my father.” My mouth opened, but no words came out.

Nodding, sipping, holding hands with Millicent, and every time I lock eyes with Sophie or her mother, I am met with a glare so intense, it forces me to look away. “Now, we have to allow the new couple to go to bed. If he’s really my son, he would be itching to get back to business.” My father laughs, I feel sick. Thankful for a reason to escape, we greet her parents one more time. Locking eyes with Holls, I nod once, walking away with my replace mate. “That was intense.” “I’m sorry about my father, he was gross.” “Yeah he was. The sexual jokes just kept coming, who jokes about the sex lives of their kids?”