My Ninety-Nine Dads
Dad Number Ninety-Five, Isaac, let them in with a completely expressionless face.
Inside the living room, ninety-nine men turned their gaze toward them, pinning them in place.
Daniel’s legs gave out almost immediately, while Macy’s face turned deathly pale.
The gift boxes in her hands slipped and fell to the floor with a dull thud.
Without hesitation, she dropped straight to her knees and began slapping herself in my direction.
The sound of her slaps echoed sharply in the silent living room.
By the tenth slap, her face was already bruised purple. Mixed with cold sweat, she looked completely miserable.
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