Who's My Dad Novels & Stories

I've never seen him in my life. "I am Mark Phillips, Your dad Jacob's father. So that would make me your grandfather," he said and smiled.

'Ahem,' I cleared my throat and shifted uncomfortably on my chair. 'Look, I know I am just a kid, I know I shouldn't know the things I do but since it's already that way, I can handle anything now. I want to know what to expect in the future, to know exactly who my father is and if to love or hate him. Please, dad, tell me?' 'Your father's name was Jethro Neil,' 'Was? You mean the formal Canadian mafia lord?' 'You read your books well,' I said, taking the champagne glass between my fingers.

Probably something about his school. Fred came back a few seconds later with a big letter that was in a file then stretched it to her, she collected the file slowly and before removing the letter that was inside, she asked,"did anyone told you to give me this?" Perhaps, Henry had given this to Fred. "No one gave me. I performed a DNA test and that's the result." Fred said and added, "Mommy, my daddy is a billionaire CEO!" The little one jubilated merrily. Fred had told Sarah to take her to the hospital after he got the hair he needed from Henry at the underground garage of Vernon's corporation.

“You know, I talked to my dad again today.” My eyebrows lifted. “You did? That’s great.” “Yeah.” He nodded slowly, swirling the water in his glass. “It was… weird. Good, though. He had more to say—stuff that filled in blanks I didn’t even realize I had. I guess you were right. There really was another side to everything.” Relief moved through me, gentle and surprising. “I’m glad. That takes guts.” He shrugged like it was nothing, but I saw the tiny flicker of pride. “Mom still hasn’t called back. Probably stewing.”

I don’t know why, but I expected Adrian to have a place in the city, closer to where he must do business. If I’m going to work here, I have to know. “Grace, how do you know Adrian?” I ask her. She looks at me and shrugs as if puzzled about why I would ask such a thing and says in a soft voice, “He’s my daddy.” Daddy? Does Adrian have a secret daughter no one knows about? I feel like Julian would have mentioned a little sister. Then again, he didn’t tell me he was the son of a billionaire either, so heaven only knows what else he isn’t telling me about.

He wasn't one of those creeps who jumped straight into sex talk within the first five minutes. Dear Daddy: ‘What is your deepest desire?’ I blushed so hard I pressed my phone against my chest for a second, god. Me: ‘I don't have many, but... I just want an orgasm. One I've never actually had.’ I couldn't believe I typed that. I couldn't believe I sent it. Dear Daddy: ‘Wait — are you saying you've never had real sex?’ Me: ‘Yeah.’ There was a pause. Longer than his usual replies.

Soon you'll know who I am. Your father.

She pats his head, She did not want him to see her terrified face at that moment. "Today in class, our teacher instructed us to tell her one thing that we love about our fathers. Everyone was saying theirs but when it came to my turn, I had nothing to say and everyone laughed at me when I said that I had only mummy and not daddy. My teacher told me that it was okay to have one and also to have both so mum, do I really have a daddy or it's just you?" Tom asked, his voice getting drowsy.

With a furrowed brow and a tone laced with disbelief, I posed the question that gnawed at the core of my being. "But how can you be certain that I am the rightful heir?" I inquired, my voice echoing with incredulity. "I've never met my father, nor has he ever reached out to me. I don't even know who my parents are, having grown up in an orphanage and going rogue at eighteen. What makes you so sure that I am the one destined to take his place?" The elders exchanged knowing glances, their expressions tinged with a mixture of solemnity and understanding. Elder Bront, the eldest among them, spoke with a voice weathered by years of wisdom.

"Whether he mistreats her or not isn't proven by what he says. It's proven by what he has done over the last five years." That person froze. The entire office fell dead silent. The teacher looked at me as if she wanted to ask me something, but she ultimately kept it to herself and placed my withdrawal application at the corner of her desk. I turned on my heel and left the office. The school corridor stretched out ahead of me. Sunlight streamed in through the windows, creating a checkered pattern of light and dark across the linoleum floor. When I walked past the Wall of Fame, I caught the photograph prominently displayed in the center. My father, Ian Smith, stood to one side while his stepso