I'm Not Your Perfect Mexican Daughter นิยาย & เรื่องราว

'If anyone can hear me... please... help me... I beg you... If you can... if there's one person who can hear my voice... please get me out of this place' "I live like a puppet. I did just what my parents told me. I did my very best to do as what they said. I gave my all just to be called as a perfect daughter. A perfect... perfect girl... that is suited for this perfect family. A perfect child for my perfect parents. A perfect daughter for my perfect mom and perfect dad... and this perfect world... everything must be perfect!"

” I sit down next to Mike at the booth and pour the shooters. Alex ~”Let’s make a new rule.” Alex ~”Four each, two tequila, two JD.” Becca ~”Okay I am game.” We have a few more drinks and I end up staying a little longer that I should…I have built such a good relationship with Alex…Much more on an emotional level than me and Josh ever did. Alex ~”So this pumpkin thing? Why do you hate it so much?” Becca ~”Don’t hate it.” Becca ~”Just feels weird. My father has called me that since I’ve been six. I don’t want to picture my dad when I am having sex with you. Shit did I just say that?”

I left there unnoticed and went to the porch to celebrate my successful mission. "This is only the beginning" ___________Alex___________ I was doing the laundry when my dad came in "I heard that Mr Justice hired a tutor to teach you, is that true?" "Yes dad. Since we came here, this family has been really nice to us" "Yes they have except Ms Madison" "Come on dad, Ms Madison is not that bad once you get to know her" "If she is not bad as you said, how come she gave you a slap for refusing to cook for her"

Before a gathering of New York's underworld Families, I slipped into the vintage Chanel gown my mother had left me. As I looked in the mirror, my seven-year-old daughter suddenly said, "Mommy, it doesn't matter what you wear. You're always the ugliest one." Just like that, all the joy the gown had brought me disappeared. It wasn't the first time my daughter had said something cruel. Once, the FBI took me in for questioning and kept me for three days. The moment I got home, I wrapped her in my arms and asked if she'd missed me. She only shrugged. "No, Mommy. You're too stupid. Smart people don't get caught." My husband, Vincent, said sternly, "You can't talk to her like that. We're a fam

"If you're not a doctor then you're not my daughter." ****

I’m still weak and getting worse everyday. “Doctor, please be honest about my daughter’s condition,” my mom said. “Mr. and Mrs.Santillan, I’m so sorry to say this but your daughter’s condition is getting worse and her time is…” “Don’t say that please! Roxy will be okay! She is going to be okay!” My mom shouted. My father hugged her tightly while tearing up, “I’m really sorry but it’s the truth Ma’am. I suggest that you need to go abroad to meet the most capable and specialist Doctors there to help cure her.”

I’m done trying to be your perfect little sister. I shut off my phone, gripping the card tighter as I swipe it against the scanner. This is it—my choice, my escape from the weight of pretending, from feeling like I’m always one step away from disappointing everyone. I push open the door, walking into the dimly lit room, and stop cold. A voice slices through the air, sharp and furious. “Are you fucking joking?”

Feel free to ask the guards and chefs for anything” I sighed, looked around my room, and then I stood up from the bed and walked to the window. Mexico smells and looks pretty nice. I was enjoying the sight when my heart raced back to my daughter, Natalia, and my eyes got teary. “What would she be going through in the hands of that man? I have failed my daughter. I thought I was strong enough, but guess I am wrong” I whispered to myself. I walked back to the bed and was filled with thoughts.

Kayla's Pov “Harder…fuck…yes…harder..fuck me like your slutty bitch,drive me crazy,take me to the cloud..fuck!!” Every brutal thrust into my pussy and asshole ripped filthy words from my lips — words I never imagined I’d say. Words the preacher’s daughter was never supposed to even think. *. *. *. I’d spent my entire life being the perfect daughter. Modest dresses. Neat hair. Perfect manners. Strict curfews. Every single thing aligned with my parents and God's rules

"Don't tell anyone. Especially not Celia." If you mess with Don DeLuca's daughter, you're finished. After saying that, I hung up. The heavy encrypted phone slipped from my hand and sank silently into the expensive silk sheets. At that moment, the noise outside flooded back into my senses — not just the music, but men's rough laughter, the sound of leather rubbing, and the crisp clinking of glasses. Tonight was Celia's birthday. The girl I once begged my father to adopt, the one I defended and called "sister."