She Wasn't My Daughter Novels & Stories

He shut up. Good. She stepped inside without waiting for permission. Caleb sputtered behind her. “This is my—Amara, you can’t just—” “I know, Caleb.” Her voice was ice. “I know everything.” His face drained. “W‑what are you talking about?” She turned slowly, eyes burning. “The baby you told me died,” she said, each word measured, lethal. “The child you said I lost.” She stepped closer. “My daughter.” Caleb’s breath hitched. “Amara—listen—”

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.

She hurried to the girl and pulled her tightly into her arms, taking on the role of protector. Then she looked up. Tears fell instantly. “Please don’t blame my daughter,” she said, her voice trembling. “It’s not her fault. I failed to give her a complete family. She’s still so young… she doesn’t understand that the man she looks up to isn’t her father.” She choked, pressing a hand to her chest.

"I don't know if you would like to come with me. I understand if you will not, not like I am your daughter or something.” She rinsed her hands and rubbed them against the apron around her waist. She directed a questioning glare at me. "Who?” She asked, her brows arching and glancing around. I blinked, confused about what she asked. She scoffed. “Then who is my daughter if you are not? Laurene, if you think you can throw me out of your life with those words, you have to work harder. I love my grandkids.” She scoffed. A small smile curled up at my lips. I knew she would come with me.

I said. “Why do you keep calling me that? I'm your mother!” she shot at me. “But you have never been my mother. All you have done is hurt me more than I can count.” I said to her “I want to see Greta, I want to see my baby girl.” She cried out. “Greta isn't coming to see you not now not ever.” I said to her. “But she is my daughter and you are my son. I need to speak to your father, maybe if he forgives me, you will too.” She said, innocently.

"Ravelle! Let go of my hand! Watch your mouth! She's our daughter!" "No!" Ravelle snapped, flinging Kyle's hand away with enough force to make him stumble back half a step. "She's not my daughter! She said it herself earlier, didn't she? She shouted right in my face that I'm not her mother! Why should I be gentle with a child who doesn't even acknowledge my existence?!"

“Didn’t you say you wanted nothing to do with us? Then let it remain that way. Leave.” She shoves my shoulder. I lose my balance and hit the floor hard. Pain shoots through me as more tears spill freely. “Mom—” “Don’t call me that,” she snaps. “You stopped being my daughter the day you walked out of this house. The day you married that useless man and disobeyed us.” Her voice drops, cold and final. “To this family, our daughter is dead.” Dead. The word pounds in my head. Dead. Dead. Dead.

She paused briefly and sighed. “It’s my girl,” she explained. “Girlfriend?” “Not at all, my daughter.” My eyes widened. Why is she a hooker if she has a daughter who can see what she is doing? Who am I fooling? I have a wife and a son and I still cheated. I laughed at the thought of wanting to judge someone when I was no better. “How old is she?” “She is three.” “I know it’s none of my concern, but where is the father?”

But while I wore a golden dress, she had donned a sparkling silver gown. “I see you and Dad worked fast,” I accused. “Did we say something untrue?” she taunted. “I’m not a whore.” “Well, we never said that directly, but how can we know? We don’t even recognize our daughter anymore,” she mocked. “When have you ever viewed me as your daughter?” I shot back. “We loved you.” “No, you used me for a purpose—to make yourselves stronger.” “Don’t be so sensitive,” she scolded. “Sensitive?” I asked, shocked.

I didn’t come here to bleed the past dry. “I didn’t come for trouble,” I said. “I came to take my daughter. That’s it.” Her face faltered for the first time. She didn’t expect that. Though she still had a grip on me. “Suit yourself,” she said with a playful sigh. “But if you change your mind… I’m just two doors down.” She walked to the door, her hips swaying deliberately, then paused at the frame and looked over her shoulder. “Oh and Daemon?” “What.”