My Father's World Reviews Novels & Stories

Dad steps forward next, wrapping his massive arms around me in a tight, crushing bear hug that smells like home. He holds me for a long, silent beat before pulling back just enough to look down at me with a deadly serious expression. “You be careful out there, little bird. The world beyond these mountains doesn’t play by our rules, and it certainly doesn’t show mercy to the unaligned. And be careful with that quick mouth of yours, it won’t save your life.” “It’s saved several conversations.” Dad huffs a rough laugh before stepping back quickly like he can’t bear doing this any longer.

“Easy.” “I’m fine,” my voice comes out rougher than I intended. “You sure?” “Yeah.” No but I nod anyway. Dad folds one of the documents neatly before looking at me again, more carefully this time. “You know,” he says slowly, “after everything with your mother, I learned something important.” I glance up. He rarely talks about Mom in the mornings. “You can usually tell how serious a man is by consistency,” he continues. “Not charm. Not gifts. Consistency.”

When he turned his gaze at me again, his eyes were already red-rimmed. “Willow, let me see Artie just once. I’m his father after all…” I gave a scornful smile and blocked his view. “But our son doesn’t want to see you. “Ever since you missed his last birthday, he has never wanted to see you again.” I shut the door, leaving him with one final remark. “Logan, you don’t deserve to be Artie’s father.” He called out my name and Artie’s over and over again until his voice broke into sobs.

How annoying, he could have just let me in, but he actually had to call it in! I had no choice but to wait. I scanned the entire estate again from inside my car. The architecture was a perfect blend of modern design and European classicism. The walls were crafted from expensive white marble, and massive glass panels revealed the ultra-luxurious interior. The driveway leading to the main entrance alone was vast, easily capable of holding more than twenty luxury vehicles. It was surrounded by imported plants and featured a breathtaking fountain in the center, complete with a sculpted statue of one of their ancestors. Everywhere you looked, you could feel power. And I knew that power didn't com

he replied. Ruin’s presence beside me felt solid and protective.“You have thirty seconds to explain yourself,” Ruin said coldly. My father’s gaze flicked toward him.“And you are?” he asked calmly. “The man she stands behind,” Ruin answered. “I see,” my father said. He looked back at me.“I did not expect to find you in this world,” he said. “You do not get to speak about my world,” I said sharply. “You abandoned me.” His jaw tightened slightly.“I protected you.”

“I want him here.” My breathing suddenly came out painfully in my throat. “Father…” I whispered nervously. He ignored me completely. His eyes remained locked on Adrian. “You claim you have feelings for my daughter?” he asked calmly. Adrian didn’t respond immediately at first Then finally, he replied after some minutes of staying quiet. “Yes.” My father nodded slowly like he had expected that answer. “Good,” he murmured. “Then you’ll stay.” I frowned in confusion. What? This was strange. Did my father accept..

“Your mood… it’s like you’ve come back to life. Ever since Richard got here.” I felt my cheeks get warm. “He’s easy to talk to.” My dad turned fully toward me. His face was serious. “Richard is a good man. One of the best I’ve ever known.” He reached over and squeezed my hand. “Whatever makes you happy, my love. That’s all I want.” My throat felt tight. “Dad…” “I mean it, Chloe. I see the way you look at each other.” “It’s not…” “It’s not what?” he asked gently. “Wrong? Sweetheart, life is too short. Real goodness is too rare. If you find it, you hold on.”

“My youngest wife.” Youngest. The word landed heavier than it should have. The son looked at me then, truly looked. His gaze sharpened, assessing in a way that felt personal now. Not as a buyer. Not as a man appraising a body. But as a son confronting something he did not want to understand. “So young,” he said quietly. There was accusation in it. I said nothing. His father smiled faintly. “She is well suited.” Something flickered across the son’s face disapproval, perhaps, quickly masked.

“So stop. And don’t call me again complaining. Let Calian handle it.” The call ended. Solyn stared at her phone like it had bitten her. Then she whispered, “Fine.” And walked back inside. Calian was in his study. Solyn didn’t knock. She pushed the door open. Calian was on a call. His gaze snapped to her, irritation flashing. He ended the call immediately. “What?” Solyn folded her arms. “My father just called.” Calian’s expression didn’t change. “And?” “And he scolded me,” Solyn said sharply. “For making your life difficult.”

“It does not.” He turned away and moved to the wall, resting one hand against the rough stone. For a moment, he looked too thin to hold his own weight. Then he straightened by force. “There is nothing good or human on this side,” my father said. Spiro’s mouth tightened, but he stayed silent. My father kept his eyes on the wall. “I know that sounds too broad. Maybe it is. Maybe somewhere under one of these cursed crowns there are gardens and laughter and people who have not had to drink through cloth to keep ash out of their teeth. I do not care. I have seen what this side does to anything that bleeds.”