I Thought I Was The Real Daughter Novel Mga Nobela at Kwento

Every time he shifted to point at the screen, his biceps flexed under the fabric, and I had to bite my lip to stop myself from whimpering. Mom was gone. Two whole weeks. Just me and Daddy alone in this big house. Every filthy fantasy I’d ever had was finally within reach. But God… it was so wrong. He was my real father. The man who raised me. And here I was, soaking through my tiny pink panties, my clit throbbing painfully while he tried to help me with my laptop. What kind of daughter gets this wet for her own Daddy? What kind of daughter has spent years fingering her tight little cunt pretending it was him?

My daughter Nina always told the truth. At a Family dinner, I was smoothing down my custom gown in front of the mirror when I asked her, "Does Mommy look pretty in this?" She pursed her lips. "Honest truth? It doesn't matter what you wear, you're the ugliest one here either way." The FBI once took me in to "assist with an investigation" for three days. When I got home, I asked if she'd been worried about me. She shrugged. "Honest truth? You're too stupid, Mommy. Getting hauled off like that, you had it coming." My husband, Vincent, teased her once, asking if she'd take care of Mommy when she grew up. She held out her hands. "What's the use of her once she's old? You said it yourself, D

My real father. "Daddy, I miss you. Can you come pick me up later?" Rage burned so hot inside me, I thought it might tear me apart. I wanted to rip her to shreds. Snatch that phone. Scream the truth—I was the real daughter of the Moore family. Raine tucked her phone away, her eyes flashing cold. "But as long as you're alive, you're a threat. I can only truly be the Moore heiress once you're dead." A chill ran down my spine.

Waiting. I didn’t look back. I went straight to my room. Locked the door. Opened the box again. And as I read, watched, listened… I realized something that hurt more than anything else. Everyone was telling the truth. Just not all of it. And the rest? That was up to me. To find. To carry. To survive. Because now, I wasn’t just a girl in a stranger’s house. I was the daughter of two ghosts. And everyone wanted to decide what that meant.

"At least, that's what I believed." Silence filled the room. Then I looked at her again. And for the first time, I allowed myself to consider the possibility. Not as wishful thinking or coincidence but as reality. My daughter. The thought hit me with the force of a physical blow. A daughter… All these years while I mourned Lydia and searched endlessly for answers, I had a daughter. And standing there in Derek Blackwood's office, staring at the woman who looked so much like my family that it hurt, I realized something. For the first time in decades, I had absolutely no idea what to do next.

“I don’t know if you’re ready for the truth dear. I don’t know if this will lead to the best. But are you that willing to hear it from me?” “Yes,” I answered swiftly. Never in my life have I been scared of the truth, but Nana’s worried face makes me want to step away. My life changed when I stepped inside this town. I wasn’t a complete human. I wasn’t normal... “The truth is…” She sighed as if she didn’t breathe for ages. “You are the alpha’s long-lost daughter.” My jaw dropped. It felt like the force of gravity doubled. No! I can’t believe this! I can’t be that evil man’s daughter! I can’t bear to be the precious daughter of the person who killed Mom and Dad!

My mind went blank. I didn't have a daughter? That was impossible. My dear Marilyn was so real and so warm. "No! You're lying!" I screamed as I leaped up to my feet. "My daughter's name is Marilyn Lopez. She's six years old, and she loves eating strawberry candy!" Gabriel walked over to me and placed a hand on my shoulder. "That's enough, Nat. Don't say anything else," he said, sounding exhausted. My eyes darted between him and Taylor.

“It is from this body you were given life.” I am not sure how she wants me to respond. She’s not my mother. I am forbidden to call her that. I was once her daughter, but not now. Not anymore. “Hate me if you will.” She says with an indifferent tone. “One day soon you will realize the harsh realities of life.” “I am familiar with them already, your grace.” I answer flatly. “You only understand the world as you know it. From fairytales and naive observations.” She retorts.

Mom used to say there was no point for a girl to buy property in a big city and that there would always be a room for me at home. I had believed her. I thought she just didn’t want me to exhaust myself, that she meant home would always be my safe harbor. However, when I actually returned, I realized not a single tile in that house belonged to me, let alone a room. Lying on the soft bed in my own apartment, I remembered how my coworkers had reacted recently when they saw me. "Wow, Elowen, you look totally different lately. You’ve gotten prettier. What are you using?"

“In this novel and upon this game, who is who and the true real one, Kyle?” With those words and questions, added by the fact and the dropping of the heavy word of ‘novel’ and ‘game’. Kyle smiles amusedly as he reads her mind and knew that what she is saying right now is all but her unconscious self, mind, and heart, where the only thing that what’s keeps it running is the dark shadow and blood of her real identity. After all, being His daughter means knowing everything and being aware of anything, even if it only rings when she is unconscious, right? “Well?” he started, and together with a snap, another copy of the book appears.