She Wasn't My Daughter Novels & Stories

Not the diagnosis, not the genetics, not the terminology people liked to use. Her daughter. Morning routines. Applesauce and medicine. The purple cup that no other cup could replace. The way Catherine sang while playing like she had her own little world. Then she wrote about the parts no one saw. The decisions. The pressure. The quiet ways companies positioned themselves as solutions before you even understood the problem. She paused. Stared at the screen. Then added one line: My daughter is not a case study. She is not a trial candidate. She is not a story for anyone else to tell.

My smile widens at his words. "Stop stalling, Amelia. Throw out what's repressing you from the inside out at once." She crosses her arms, making her breasts stand out more, and I drop my gauze, wondering what color her pout is. Damn, focus! She is the daughter of the enemy. It must be a card out of the deck. She is his ex-wife's younger sister and last but not least, she is eighteen years old. "What happened?" I resolve to cut to the chase and avert my eyes from temptation. His face turns into a disgusted frown, but he's still looking at me.

She wasn’t going to entertain a conversation she didn’t want to have. “How long are you going to abandon her, Amara? She's your daughter too—” “She isn’t my daughter,” she cut him off harshly, her voice sharp like broken glass, each word biting. Her breath hitched, betraying the control she desperately clung to. “She is Killian’s daughter, and I have nothing to do with her. Not now, and not in the future either.”

My grip loosens instantly, letting go of her hand as I step back, still in shock. “Don’t ruin this for us,” she continues, sounding so conversational as if we’re discussing something trivial. “I see the way you’re hiding…. The way you refuse to show your face to the camera… it’s obvious.” She walks around me, then stops behind, very close to my ear. “My daughter has spent most of her life in the Goldenmoon pack…. A very few here know what she looks like.” She then walks and halts before me. “So don’t worry about the media…. You and I can actually play this mother-daughter role well.”

I called her again and tried touching her. “Don’t touch me, father. Don’t you dare,” she warned. “Why, daughter? Why can’t your father touch you?” “You’re no longer my father, and I’m no longer your daughter. I have repudiated you as my father since you asked them to lock me up in that cold dirty cell, so don’t call me your daughter again,” she cut ties with me. She was mumbling these to me, and my mate was just squatting by her side, not uttering a single word. My wife and daughter were hostile to me.

She is indeed from there, but she is not of some blood relation to the pack’s Alpha. “I am amazed by how you could easily tell, although yes I am from the pack, I used to be Lester Fangs’ daughter….. but sadly…. We just found out that I am not my father’s daughter, I am still on the path of knowing who I am.`` With her honest answers, Ferlin nodded her head and felt a little sad with such information.

“Pack your things. I don’t want to come home and find you there.” “But Dad, I’m your daughter.” “That’s right—by blood. But from this moment, you are no longer my daughter.” The flowers slipped from her hands and landed on the floor. She looked at me as if I had ripped her heart in half. But mine wasn’t spared either.

“Hang on, isn't she the daughter of Jared?” “She is my daughter” My jaw dropped for a moment. I was too stunned to even speak up. I don't know what to say. I never expected that Jared's daughter was not his. Could that be the reason why he always mistreated her? I have not seen it happen but I have heard the rumors, although I don't worry about such meaningless rumors. “How come?”

She was never really a mother figure for me, keeping me alive barely when I’m sure she would have preferred me to die whenever I asked her for attention. She laughs, clapping her hands together. I stare at her, waiting for her to sober from her amusement. She’s never heard me threaten her, and yet here I am, finally standing up to her. “Alright daughter.” She shakes her head a little, her laughing finally simmering down. “I’m not your daughter. Not since you sold me off to Oliver,” I growl back. She clasps her hands in front of her. “How is that marriage going? I thought we had an agreement…”

' I yelled. I have a huge temper and people close to me, know very well not to provoke me unnecessarily. 'Not anymore darling,' the tall woman chuckled in mockery. I furrowed my brows, removing my attention from the already crying attendant and turning to face her. 'What do you mean?! Are you trying my patience or what?!' 'Yes, you heard me right. You're NOT your father's only daughter.' She said and I felt my heart sank, my anger immediately replaced with shock and disbelief.