Father I Won't Do Anything Novel Novels & Stories

Theo tried to negotiate staying longer, but the tone in his father’s voice left no room for argument. “I have to go,” he told me afterward, holding me close on the bed, his naked body still warm against mine. His fingers traced soothing patterns on my bare hip as I curled into his chest, fighting back tears. “Just a few days, baby. I’ll be back before you know it. I promise.” I nodded against his skin, inhaling his scent like I could memorize it. “I know. It’s just… these past days have been perfect. I don’t want to go back to pretending all the time.”

"You like it when I remind you who your Daddy is. Tell me the truth. If I opened that door right now and told you that you were free to go—to Marcus Thorne, to the police, to the streets—would you actually leave me?" I looked at the door, then back at the man who held my father’s life in a hospital wing three floors above us. I thought about the way my body had hummed under his touch, the way the "Daddy" name had felt like a key turning in a lock I didn't know existed. "No," I whispered, the word tasting like poison. "I wouldn't leave." Julian let out a low, triumphant laugh and buried his face in my neck, his teeth grazing the skin right above the collar. "That's my girl. That's my masterpi

Peace. They’d gone again just before dawn—slow this time. Intimate. Sebastian had whispered something against his shoulder, something Ezra hadn’t caught but hadn’t needed to. He’d felt it. His Omega. No one could take that away from him now. Not even the ghost of his father, who would have thrown fists and threats, called him names, told him he was soft and disgusting. Ezra had buried all that with the man six feet under. His father couldn’t judge him from the grave. Couldn’t threaten to cut off his dick if he dared to touch another man.

"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.

I took a deep breath, my nails digging hard into my palm. “Dad, if what you just said is true, then you broke the law.” Ken Zimmer shook his head and let out a mocking laugh. “Joe, who are you trying to scare? Even if I did break the law, who’s going to believe you? Your word alone? “Even if you go looking for your real family, I can just say the babies were accidentally switched at the hospital. What can you do about it? Do you really think the city’s wealthiest family would give up Victor and choose you instead?

" His words sent a thrill through me, but Susan beamed with uncontained joy. I opened my mouth to tell my father the truth, but I hesitated. I remembered Susan's promise—she only needed one day to experience this life, and then she would return my father to me. So, I swallowed my urge to speak. "Dad, uh… Do you need a housekeeper at home?" Susan shot me a look, silently pleading with my father not to keep me around. My fists clenched tightly. I couldn't believe she was going back on her word. My father turned to me, his gaze softening with an unexpected warmth. Then, slowly shaking his head, he murmured, "It's… it's uncanny how much you look like her." He then asked, "Are you married?"

"Booker Group in Pemberton is very interested in your profile. Would you be interested in giving it a try?" Back then, I still wasn't ready to meet Edgar, so I turned it down. All these years, it felt like there was someone watching over me and quietly giving me a helping hand from behind the scenes. At first, I felt unsettled because the word "father" was simply too foreign to me. Later, I felt anger. Why was he always lurking in the background, sitting up in his company, all distant and untouchable? It was as if he'd simply erased Grandma's death from his mind, like it had never happened.

“So you still remember you’re my husband? You still remember that Artie is your son? “How many times have I sought you out? Didn’t your bodyguard tell you? I even went on my knees before him in the end. Has your heart ever softened? “All I wanted was for you to see your son one last time, but all you care about is Jenny Horne and her child!” “Whose father are you, exactly? Can you even tell the difference anymore?” I recalled how, whilst Artie had been understanding of Logan’s busy schedule, Logan was letting another person’s child ride on his shoulders. My heart felt as though it were being pierced by countless tiny needles, a dense stinging pain coursing through me. Logan opened his mouth.

“I need you to know that this isn’t about not wanting you. It’s never been about that.” “Then what is it about?” “It’s about the fact that you’re twenty five and I’m forty five. That I’ve known you since you were three years old. That I taught you how to ride a bike and helped you with your architecture school applications. That your father calls me his brother.” His hand lifted like he was going to touch my face, then dropped. “It’s about the fact that I can’t offer you what you deserve. A man without ghosts, without complications, without twenty years of history tying him to your family.”

Her hands clutched my clothes desperately, fingers digging into fabric as if she could anchor me to the floor if she held tight enough. “I will come back,” I whispered into her hair. It was a lie. But it was all I had. They came that night. Three men. Heavy boots. Dark jackets. The kind of men who did not look around when they entered a room because they already owned it. My father opened the door without argument. My mother screamed my name. One of the men grabbed my arm. His grip was firm, practiced. I did not fight. Fighting was what children did when they believed rescue was possible.