My Father Is The Hero Novels & Stories

Now, am I going after justice? “If you don’t, they’re going to keep coming for you, baby. You knocked over the wasp’s nest. They’re already swarming and stinging. There’s no half-assing the rest of this. Either you finish them, or they’ll finish you.” I think of my father. The starch of his uniform against my skin when he’d pick me up and hold me on his hip. The medals he wore on his chest. The hero I believed him to be. Still believe him to be.

Vanessa held me and cried with me. I cried until my body weakened and my vision blurred. An elderly man with gray hair and a suit walked toward me. He was the man behind the Summer family, the one Layla’s father had called untouchable. He was my father’s former superior, Alfred Bruno. Bruno looked at me with deep pity. “Your father was a true hero, and you are a hero’s daughter. Remember this. The country will always support you if you face hardship.” I tried to speak, but my throat tightened. I could only nod.

Doubt creeps into my mind, questioning whether I am truly capable of fulfilling this monumental task. In the quiet moments, when the weight of my responsibility becomes too much to bear, I find solace in my father's words. He reminds me that heroes are not born, but rather forged through adversity. He tells me stories of great warriors who faced insurmountable odds and emerged victorious, their unwavering determination and belief in their cause propelling them forward.

But the happiest of all is my father, who rises from his seat and immediately walks over to wrap me in his arms. Dad always gives the best hugs, but this is different. I feel the way he trembles, holding me so tightly like he’s afraid to let go. My father is the bravest, most wonderful man in the world. I look up to him. He’s always been my hero, and I want to make him proud. And that’s why it breaks my heart to see him so visibly disturbed. He says nothing because he frankly doesn’t have to. If I thought I was scared, I can’t imagine the turmoil he and the rest of my family must have gone through.

It was like my father wanted me to find this photo here. I had a sudden burst of determination and decided. My dad's my hero - I'd do as he did. I would seek Sean Collins, the Special Forces warrior elite, and uncover the secrets he held. It was something there I could have sworn. I couldn’t explain, but it was a leap of faith, a decision I made driven by a mix of curiosity, longing, and the need for my revenge.

he added, his voice cracking with emotion. “You're accusing him of murder!” he exclaimed. I could see the hurt in his eyes, the confusion, and the anger but I was confused because we had been through this before and he helped me. “Of course, I wouldn't lie about something like this,” I said, my tone harsh. “I know my father was a tough man,” he said, his voice trembling, “And he tried to kill Zelda which was why I helped you get him but killing his blood? That's not something he would ever do. You must be mistaken.”

He clapped his hands, making a rhythmic sound and went straight to hug him. "Now I know you're ready, your actions, your attitude were that of a hero." His Father said to him. All that his Father did was to test him if he was going to stay back and do nothing as he had sent the guards to give him the order or if he was going to fight and save his Father as the guards had narrated what was going on to him.

On the paper was written the address and telephone number of a person whose name my father just heard a few moments ago, Kalvin Xerena. "He is father's hero .." Father's eyes always sparkled with amazement whenever he mentioned Mr. Kalvin. In the beginning, I think dad is very overbearing. Moreover, I only go to Xerena's house on weekends. So I don't really understand my father's admiration.

What had my father done? I backed away, slowly retreating to the couch. My legs barely carried me, my thoughts loud, wild, spinning out of control. Was this the reason? Was this why Adrian treated me like trash? I slowly made my way back to the couch. What did he do? What did my father do? I sank into the cushions, curling into myself. The tears I’d been holding back slipped free, trailing down my cheeks. He was my safe place, my hero. My father had always been the gentlest soul. The most selfless man I’d ever known. He was the reason I knew what love looked like—what kindness sounded like.

My hero. I snap back to the present, the weight of the memory pressing down on me. “I thought he saved me once,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper. “I thought he was my hero.” My father’s expression doesn’t change. “And now?” I close my eyes, exhaling slowly. “And now, I don’t know.” I remember the day I came to my father’s office years ago, brimming with confidence. I had been so sure of myself, so sure of Knoxx.