Pastor's Daughter Novels & Stories

“I promise you.” “A mistake?” A bitter laugh ripped out of my throat. “Pastor Patricia,” I said, curling my fingers into exaggerated quotation marks. “The almighty saint.” My voice dripped with sarcasm. “You call having sex with a younger man, your daughter’s ex fiancé, a mistake?” Sweat had gathered along her hairline. Her body trembled like a leaf caught in the wind. She looked completely shaken. “It’s the work of the devil,” she sobbed.

I put my six-year-old daughter in my mother-in-law’s hands as I was busy with an overseas project. Every month, I would send her 20,000 dollars in allowance, not including holiday cash gifts. My mother-in-law would always talk about how well my daughter ate and slept during every video call. In the video, a feast was always laid before my daughter. So when her teacher claimed that she had fainted out of hunger during class, my first thought was that she must have called the wrong number. I rushed back home and headed straight to the hospital. The doctor said that my daughter was suffering from long-term malnutrition and her weight was far below the average. She also had severe post-trau

Then I thought, how can a man as evil and cruel as Mr President give birth to a beautiful angel like this girl? Oh my! Such beauty! “ This is my daughter, Sandra. She will be starting with us in SS2 class and I would like you guys to make her feel welcome, especially her classmates. Will you do that? " We all chorused “ YES SIR! " Except me, my eyes were just fixed on his daughter's rare beauty... The Morning Assembly came to an end and we all went to our various classes. “ Chris, how far? Are you sure you can still have your pay back on that girl? She is really pretty." Ayo said as he came to meet me.

I looked with disgust at flies perching over the open gutters. Becca pulled her phone out. The screen was dusty from the trek through Idi-Ori, but the light was bright enough to show the truth: 0 New Messages. 10 Unanswered Calls (To: Mama). "She won't pick up, Josh. She at least ought to hear me out" Becca said, her voice sounding thin against the honking of a yellow keke. "She’s not just angry. She’s mourning. The Pastor told her I’m a 'Harlot,' and to her, that’s a death sentence for her daughter."

the minister demanded Earl Bishop. The man grabbed the small girl, restraining her attacking arms under his own. The pair hastily moved the short distance back over the wide threshold and into the church. The minister rushed along with the father and daughter pair. As they crossed back through the wide open church doorway the child instantly went limp and silent in her father's arms.

"They didn't win. They just committed a crime in the name of God. And they think they’ve silenced her." We drove home in a silence that felt like a funeral procession. When we pulled into our driveway, I looked at the Pastor’s house. The lights were on. The "perfect" family was back inside. The curtains were drawn. From the outside, it looked like the sanctuary it claimed to be. But I knew what was inside. I knew the girl who was lying in that room, her body violated and her spirit broken by the very people who were supposed to be her shepherds.

“The Miami project has been losing money for three months. I will go there and fix it.” In my past life, my father took the trust fund my mother left me, and all of it ended up in Seraphina's pocket. When things got bad, I asked her for fifty thousand dollars. She laughed and transferred thirty thousand with a note that said her sister loved her. I learned my lesson, and I refused to make the same mistake again.

The nerve of him, his friend smirks at me noticing our stares and scowl. I ignore him and walks towards the girls who are busy gawking at our display. They're probably thinking we're still the besties like two years ago since I practically live in his house but one week of hope is enough for me to realize I am still the naive girl from two years ago. "Scarlet hey " Monica greets me grinning widely, she's the Pastor daughter and is the sweetest girl in our town. I walk towards her pulling the chair out taking the scissors from her hand.

The pack knew my mother, Wynne Carter, a renowned pack healer, as the very definition of fairness. To avoid any accusation of favoritism, she once had me removed from the emergency ward while I was suffering from a severe allergic reaction, all because she couldn’t let her own daughter take medical resources away from other pack members. Even when I invited her to the academy’s open day, she turned me down because my instructor was pregnant. She reprimanded me sternly, “Get those funny ideas out of your head. My position is not a way for you to get special treatment from your instructors.” I had always believed my mother was merely strict. Then, the fire happened. My adopted sister,

“She needs somewhere strict… somewhere holy.” The thought came quietly at first, then settled firmly in her heart. St. Mary’s Convent School. A place known for discipline, silence, and spiritual guidance. A place where girls were reshaped through routine and prayer. A place where rebellion had no room to breathe. If the world could not correct her daughter, perhaps the church could. Her decision was made before the clock struck ten. Upstairs, unaware of the plan forming below her, Christiana lay sprawled across her bed. Music flooded her ears, loud enough to shake away the echo of her mother’s disappointment.