John B's Dad Novels & Stories

I could see it from his face. He reserved his comment for later. “So what are your intentions with my daughter, young man?” My dad asked. Johny held my palm on the table and looked at me and my parents and said “I was about quitting my job and starting a business so Laura and I could live somewhere. You know it’s good to start from somewhere sir. I love her so much and I see myself sharing a great part of my life with her” I was so amazed by his words but my dad wasn’t convinced enough by what he said. “Alright,I hope it’s for the better because if you hurt or harm my daughter, I will tear off your balls so be careful.” My dad warned Johny. Johny swallowed his throat and I tapped him. It was

What does he mean? “what are you talking about?” I asked which made his expressions to change. He looked past me towards John and gave him a serious look “ You haven’t told her” he asked “haven’t told me what? Did something happened to dad?” I asked not getting the situation John stayed quiet with a gloomy expression on his face which worried me even more “how can I have a son like you!” John’ father said clearly disappointed and angry. I saw the broken look on john’s face which appeared for few seconds before he hide it under a neutral one

I responded and told them everything that happened “Poor thing, you must’ve been scared “John remarked softly after I was done telling them everything, my dad hadn’t made a sound yet, suddenly he got up and requested “Give me Robins number now” he demanded making my heart skip a beat, hastily I called out his number for him “What station is he at?” “I don’t know, he didn’t tell me” “Okay” he replied softly and dialed Robins number; the tone rang, the whole living room was silent, we were anticipating Robin’s voice, when he didn’t pick the first time, my dad called again this time not waiting for the phone my dad raised his voice at me

"And quit using Wendy's first-name. She is your elder—I will be marrying her next month." "What?!" Dylan cried on top of his lungs. "I won't allow it!" John glowered. "Do you think you can tell me what to do?" Meanwhile, Levi had prepared the car, while John strode out with me in his arms. I felt glee even as I turned to look at Dylan's crestfallen state before we left. In my past life, I had thought of John as my father, and it was only after he died in an accident that I found out he had feelings for me from the start, as I bore a striking resemblance with an old flame of his.

Jonathan ran into his arms as he happily took him in his embrace. "Did you miss dada?" he said while throwing him in the air slightly. Jonathan's giggle echoed the roam as he hugged him as soon as he landed in his arms again. They both lost in their chit-chat. Jonathan began to describe his achievements to John as he patiently listened to his every word. This father-son relationship was the cutest one I have seen so far. Jonathan has always admired his dad, even when he never knew who he was. Jenny has always described his dad as the most amazing hero he can be. Jenny's love for John was indeed admirable.

They step aside when they see Damian. No words. No nods. Just immediate obedience. Damian pushes open the door, and Eli feels the shift in temperature before his eyes even adjust. Then he sees him. Marcus Blackthorne. Damian’s father. A man with silver hair pulled back, eyes sharp enough to slice skin, posture as perfect and rigid as a blade. He doesn’t look like he ages—more like he calcifies. He sits at a long table, a crystal glass untouched before him. When he lifts his gaze, Eli feels it physically.

John: Probably, Dad there is some mystery that is happening on Mom that time. Dad: Yes, I guess. She left the house right after giving birth to Jette. I made sure Jette is mine, I had her DNA-tested, and it’s positive, I’m the father. When I went home to tell her the good news, and to hug her as a thanksgiving that Jette is mine, I didn’t see her at home. She left us. She left me for the second time. John: From that day Dad, she never tried to reach out? Every occasion? Every celebration?

as the media dubs him, smile only at me. But the media is a bunch of assholes, because they forget that he’s been such a devout single parent ever since he was young. My dad hasn’t aged much. At thirty-seven going on thirtyeight, he still has a strong build that fills out his suit. He’s tall and broad and has an eight-pack. No kidding. He’s the healthiest man I know. But he also has a few age lines that make him the wisest ever—aside from a certain someone.

I say as I enter the room and she raises her eyes to me, closing the magazine. “Yes Bonnie,” she says, and I fiddle with my fingers. She raises one eyebrow while my dad looks at me through his glasses that are resting on the edge of his nose. “I have a date tonight. Can you help me chose an outfit?” I say and she smiles, standing up almost immediately placing the magazine on the coffee table. “Who’s the date with?” My dad asks, and I smile. “His name is Joh. He is the quarterback?” I say and Dad nods. Dad owns the school I go to, so he knows everyone, but he doesn’t really meddle in my life.

I tilted my head away from her hand. I looked up at them. "Mom said everything is mine. Nobody touches it." Dad's face fell. "What do you know? You're a kid. Your mom spent every day scheming." The doorbell rang. A steady, low voice carried in from the front hall. "Excuse me. Is Mr. Alex Caldwell home?" The study door opened. A man in his forties walked in: gray suit, wire-rimmed glasses, black briefcase. He stopped in front of Dad.