The Daughter He Never Knew Novels & Stories

Father of the daughter unknown — no record of him anywhere. I read it twice, slowly, letting the words settle. Not married. Just close friends, nothing more than that. And the father of her daughter, completely unknown, missing entirely from any record the Beta had managed to find anywhere. My interest piqued at that, "Kade?" I looked up quickly. Wren was watching me closely, waiting, her brow raised slightly in question. "Sorry," I said, pocketing my phone fast. "Go on, please. I'm listening now."

Holding me by the throat against the wall with my feet not even touching as he growled in my face. "You don't know the first fucking thing about me or my daughter! You think you have everything figured out?... Well you don't! Me nor my daughter knew who your mate was. I didn't even know she was your second chance mate until the moment your mate died. That's when mother told me everything. Or almost everything. I still didn't know who your actual mate was. And as for my daughter, She didn't know either. All she knew was she was going to be your second chance mate. She had no idea when or how it was going to happen.

I looked into his sad eyes "She never told Bryson." I gasped in horror "for months he kept asking about her whereabouts but, we knew nothing. He eventually started to send out search parties. She was never found". I laid my head on his shoulder and whispered to him. "She relocated to America and attended Boston University for business, which is why you never found her" he hung his head and started to cry. "I do not know who my father is, he has to be a werewolf. Callan said I have a strong aura so, maybe he is an Alpha.”

His tiny voice wavered, pulling her from the depths of her grief, his innocent eyes looking up at her with a question she had no answers for. Her throat burned, and her chest felt like it was being torn open. She didn’t know how to explain that the man who had been their whole world was never coming back. With her free hand, she touched the small bundle in the carrier against her chest, her one-year-old baby girl who would never even know the sound of her father’s voice. A tear slipped down her cheek as she realized her daughter would grow up never knowing the man who loved her before she even took her first breath.

Tricia POV I thought of my father, he was wrong, yes. Never would I expect that he could kill anyone, but he did. Not only did he kill Morgan's friend, but also my mother. He might have been a spy. How did the one-night sex with my mother happen? Also, how did he get to the hospital she was taken to? I didn't know that tears had begun to fall from my eyes until Morgan used his hand to clean my eyes; I immediately hugged Morgan.

Either way, everything had changed. The girl he'd forgotten after one night had given him something he'd never expected, never planned for. A daughter. And Mikal Smirnov never walked away from what was his!

"Every personal detail?" "Yup. I don't just do what is told to me; I do better than that." She said it confidently. In that case, who could be that person who knew about my daughter? Lenore never met Theodore, so she couldn’t know that by tasting his blood. And Moana didn’t know about my daughter until recently. *

He received a call on the special mobile phone that no one else ever called him on, except her… "Hi Izzy." "Dada!" It was Isabella Joanne Gallagher, his twelve years old daughter… The daughter no one outside his immediate family circle knew of… The daughter he had when he was just a sixteen years old teenager… The daughter whom he loved more than anyone or anything else on this planet… The daughter who was the center of his world… The daughter who was his deepest, darkest and most hidden secret!

He thinks I am still that naive fifteen-year-old. Just when I tried to end the call, his voice came up. “I see you have a daughter now, a beautiful one at that.” My whole world stilled as I heard his words. My daughter…. Does he know about her? Oh goodness! This isn't looking good. I've never told him about my daughter…. So how did he know about her? Nova? A tiny voice whispered at the back of my head, and I gritted my teeth in anger. Of course. It is that bitch.

That was how far along I was when the news broke. Dominic Santoro. Juliana Lancaster. A wedding announcement wrapped in gold ink and political language, alliances praised, futures promised, strength celebrated as if it were a virtue rather than a habit. I read it once. Then I closed the file. The warehouse burned on a Tuesday. It sat outside Verona, officially a storage facility, unofficially a redistribution hub Dominic kept off his clean ledgers, and the man who managed it had once been humiliated publicly by Juliana for speaking out of turn. I remembered him because years ago, when his daughter was sick and no one else would approve the funds, I had signed off on her treatment without ask