Romans & histoires The Daughter Book

I smiled as I heard Damien's voice when I slightly opened Darya's door. Damien was sitting comfortably on Darya's bed, his back on the headboard. Darya, on the other hand, was hugging her father while resting in his chest. My husband's gentleness was emphasized as he sat on Darya's pink bed. He was holding a story book, reading it to his daughter. "What happened to them, daddy?" Darya asked and yawned. Her eyes are sleepy but she wants to hear the ending of the story. Damien gently caressed her hair. "The prince and the princess lived happily ever after, sweetheart. They had a daughter like you."

She nods, “You can read it yourselves, and I’ll answer any questions you might have.” She hands the book to George, who takes it cautiously, unsure how strong the book was. She points to the paragraph in question and he reads it aloud. “A death-borne daughter will be sent to a foreign land upon her eighteenth summer. This land will cause deep sorrow and many great hardships to fall upon her. She will know great pain, within and without. But she will return to a place of honour, greater than from whence she came. Many years will have passed, and her gift will have grown. She will be the source of many blessings for her people.”

So. You thought Lucia was going to be easy, huh? You sat through David Reid terrorizing grown men in tailored suits, watched Nora survive things that would break most people twice over, closed that last book feeling like you understood this family... and you thought the daughter was going to be the simple one. Adorable.

The bedtime book is upside down. I don’t point it out. Our daughter is curled against my side on her small bed, blanket pulled up to her chin, hair still damp from the bath. The night‑light throws soft moons on the ceiling. Somewhere down the hall, the dishwasher hums. I hold the book while she “reads” to me, her finger tracing the wrong words in a sing‑song voice. “…and then the princess said, ‘No thank you, dragon, I’m busy,’” she improvises. “And the dragon was sad but polite.”

What more did she want from me? My father, Brian Larson, sat by the side of the bed and sighed. "We spoiled her too much. I knew we shouldn't have kept her from the beginning. The fortune teller said that only Summer would bring us luck and that Sienna would only cause us misfortunes. If we had abandoned or killed her when she was born, things would've been much easier. My father's expression was so murderous that I truly believed that if I were there next to him, he would have choked me to death.

It is about to crystallize and make it clear to all of them, “She is nicknamed the Daughter of the Sun.” Shocked murmurs came at the name of their King, Daughter of the Sun! One of the legends of the ancients, they hear tales about which it is not known whether they are true or not. The daughter of the sun, which is a miniature sun that walks over the earth, has supernatural abilities to erase the impact of every area it enters, burn it to nothingness, concealing its trace, destroying any kind of witnesses that can tell about it. They say she lives alone without a partner in the lonely mountains until she dies,

Mom's face went pale. She gripped the mic, her voice shaking. "Wh-What... what is this? Is this donor cadaver really my daughter, Charlotte?" She stared at Elayne, frozen in disbelief. Elayne took a shaky breath. "Yes. The cadaver in front of you... it's Charlotte." The mic slipped from Mom's hand, slamming to the floor with a sharp, earsplitting crack. People in the audience flinched, hands flying to their ears.

she asked, pronouncing gorgeous wrong. Riley’s uncle looked at me and smiled, absolutely charming. “Absolutely stunning,” he said. It wasn’t easy to make me blush but he somewhat achieved it. The kind of man I typically ended up in bed or say, in a street race with after a long night was nothing like the man my daughter chose to bring to me. He was cleaned up and looked responsible instead of rugged and grungy. My eyes followed my daughter as she ran back to his car and opened the door to his backseat. “Liyah?” I called for her, confused.

“She’s there. Second cell to the right. I’ll stay here to keep watch.” I gave him a firm nod. “If you hear anything… anyone… stall them.” He gave me a nervous look. “Be careful, Daemon.” I didn’t answer. I was already walking. The heavy door groaned as I pushed it open. Stone walls closed in like a tomb. Chains clinked faintly in the distance. But there at the far end was her cell. My daughter. She sat curled on a thin cot, legs drawn up, a worn dress draped over her shoulders. Her head was down, arms wrapped tightly around herself.

David's low, gravelly voice said to his own daughter. David pounded her relentlessly, the bed creaking under the force of his thrusts. His hands mauled her tits, while his mouth sucked on her nipples hard. He was a fucking cliché, wasn't he? Nailing his step daughter. Didn't matter. He had good reason. Was protecting Susan. "Daddy. Daddy. Daddy," Anna cried out on a loop, the pillow falling to the side, her face red from David's exertions and keeping her legs in the air for her daddy.