She Wasn't My Daughter นิยาย & เรื่องราว

I frowned. “I’m sure your security team will locate her before you will. Let them do their job.” I said. Her eyes filled with sadness as she shook her head turning away. “They won’t care. More than half of them don’t even see her as my daughter because she isn't my blood!”

"But she's my sister..." "No." I cut her off, cold as ice. "She is not your sister. She is your father's daughter. Not mine. Don't forget that." Her wide eyes searched my face as though she had never heard it spoken so plainly before. But it was the truth. Layla was not mine. She never had been.

My voice came out barely above a whisper. "This isn't Renz's daughter."

I tu‌rned toward her. ‌"M‍other..." "‍D‌on't call me tha⁠t."⁠ Her voice was sharper than Father's slap. "I only had one child." My breathing became uneven. "Pl‍ease..." I whispe‌red. "I⁠'m your daughter." "No." She folded her arms across her chest. "You're noth‌ing but a cur‌se that refuses to leave this house." Father pi‍cked up the contract again.

"He's right, though. Stay off the bike. We don't want anything to happen to you." We. I'm being raised by everyone and no one. My dad's not with Toren. He's one million percent committed and in love with his wife, my mother , his teen sweetheart. But she's gone now, and my father is a thirty-two-year-old rock star with a seventeen-year-old daughter, trying to act like he's not broken and lost and on the verge of losing the very definition of his shit. But I know better. He's afraid something's going to happen to me too. That I'll be here one moment and gone the next. And I don't blame him for feeling that way at all because I feel it, too.

Was she saying that she wasn’t my mother? “That’s right. You are not my daughter. I had no choice but to raise you when your father brought you home. I thought it was going to be fine as long as you stayed on the sidelines. But you stole my daughter’s birthright. Sasha’s meant to be the CEO of our family business where you don’t belong. I’m not going to make the same mistake twice,” she swore before ripping the oxygen mask from my face.

“You think you can come back now because suddenly you feel like having a grandchild? Sorry to disappoint you, but we won’t be staying here for long.” Her eyes shot up. “What do you mean you won’t be staying for long?” I scoffed. “It’s none of your business. Just stay away from my daughter.” Her shoulders stiffened. “Liv, you can’t be serious.” “I’m very serious.” “You can’t take her away—” I cut her off sharply. “She is my daughter. Not yours. Not the family’s. Not anyone’s. Mine.” Her lips opened and closed, like she was trying to find an argument strong enough to hold me in place. But she had nothing. She always had nothing when it came to real emotion.

she sniffed. I wasn’t in the mood for this. Not fucking now. “We’ve been calling her phone—” “She’s not your daughter,” I cut in, my voice sharp as a blade. “W-what?” She questioned. “The moment your husband disowned her, she ceased to be your family.” I could hear her breathing through the pain my words caused. But I didn’t care. Annalisa had cried enough over these people. I wouldn’t let them crawl back now, pretending to be worried parents.

"Bring him back right now." She shook her head slowly. "I cannot." "Why not?" I screamed. "If you did this, you can undo it! You have to!" "He had to die for us to meet again," she said, and her voice was gentle. Too gentle. "Like this. Daughter." The word hit me like a slap. Daughter. This woman who had abandoned me, who had let me grow up thinking I was alone in the world, was calling me daughter. I stood slowly, my hands still covered in Darragh's blood. Around us, I could hear the sounds of battle. Sentinels were flooding the room, shouting orders, but their voices seemed to come from very far away.

That was a story that had died long ago but now they were fighting and Angela wanted to know why. “I will not let you take her from me.” “Remember that she is not ours.” Her father’s voice grew angrier and harder with every word he said. “She is my daughter.” “We raised her together she is ours and when you think about it well she is not even our daughter!” “Keep your voice down Robert,” mother said angrily and harshly. What do they mean by she isn’t ours, who is the she? Could it be her—Angela—were they talking about her? But it didn’t make any sense. They were her parents and she was her daughter, right?