Page 152 of Morally Gray Daddies

Her eyes, sharp and penetrating behind thin-rimmed glasses, locked onto mine. I felt exposed, vulnerable, as if she could see right through me, past my feeble attempts at deception and straight to the core of my guilt.

"Emily," Miss Pierce began, her voice a mixture of disappointment and something else I couldn't quite place, something that suggested a certain strange excitement, "I want you to understand the gravity of your situation." She paused, letting her words settle over me like a heavy blanket. "What you've done is a serious offense. Embezzlement, even if unintentional, carries severe consequences."

I felt my throat constrict, a lump forming that threatened to choke me. The room seemed to spin slightly, the modern art on the walls blurring into a kaleidoscope of accusatory colors.

"Normally," she continued, her green eyes never leaving mine, "this would result in immediate termination and criminal charges. Five years in prison, at minimum." She let that sink in, and I felt the blood drain from my face. Five years. The words echoed in my head, each repetition hammering home the reality of my situation.

Miss Pierce leaned forward, her elbows resting on the polished surface of her desk. "However," she said, her tone shifting slightly, "Selecta believes in second chances, especially for young women like yourself who have… shall we say, lost their way."

I blinked, confusion momentarily overriding my fear. "Second chances?" I echoed weakly.

"Yes, Emily. We have an alternative program that might be more… beneficial for someone in your position." She reached into a drawer and pulled out a sleek tablet, tapping it a few times before sliding it across to me.

I stared at the tablet, my vision blurring as I tried to focus on the screen. The words "Rehabilitation Program for Non-Violent Female Offenders" stood out in bold letters at the top of the document. My heart raced as I skimmed through the paragraphs, phrases like "strict discipline," "behavioral modification," and "intensive rehabilitation" jumping out at me.

Miss Pierce's voice cut through my growing panic. "It’s usually just called the Bad Girl Program. It’s designed for young women like yourself, Emily. Girls who have demonstrated a clear inability to function as responsible adults in society."

I looked up, my mouth dry. "But I… I'm not…"

"Not what, Emily?" Miss Pierce's tone was sharp, cutting me off. "Not a bad girl? I think we both know that's not true. Your actions speak louder than your words. Embezzlement is just the latest in a pattern of behavior that shows you're not ready for the responsibilities of adulthood."

She stood up, walking around the desk to stand beside me. I could smell her perfume again, that intoxicating blend of floral and spice. It made my head swim.

"The program is harsh, I won't lie to you," she continued, her voice softer now but no less authoritative. "It involves a regression to childhood. You'll be treated as a little girl, with all the rules, restrictions, and punishments that entails."

I felt a hot flush creep up my neck and into my cheeks. "But I'm twenty-four," I protested.

“Twenty-four,” Miss Pierce echoed, “is by no means too old to need a strict daddy’s care.”

Chapter Two

Emily

I stared at her, my mouth open. I couldn't think of a single word to say. My heart pounded in my chest as I struggled to process the words. A strict daddy's care? The implications made my head spin.

"I… I don't understand," I stammered, my voice barely above a whisper.

Miss Pierce's lips curved into a small, knowing smile. "Oh, I think you do, Emily. Deep down, you know exactly what I mean."

She leaned against her desk, towering over me. "The Bad Girl Program isn't just about punishment. It's about rehabilitation through structure, discipline, and guidance. You'll be assigned a Daddy — a strict authority figure who will take complete control of your life."

My cheeks burned hot with embarrassment, but I couldn't look away from her cool gaze. "But… but that's…"

"Exactly what you need," she finished firmly. "A firm hand to guide you, to teach you right from wrong. To give you the discipline you're so clearly lacking."

To my horror, I felt a flutter of excitement in my belly at her words. I had to tense the muscles of lower body to keep myself from squirming in my seat.

“What if I say that I want a lawyer?” I asked, trying desperately to push away the strange effect the idea of a having a daddy seemed to be having on me. I looked up at Miss Pierce as steadily as I could, doing my best to appear unintimidated — though in truth I had never felt so intimidated in my life.

“Well, Emily,” she replied. “That would be your choice. Here in England, unlike in the States these days, Selecta can’t stop you from taking this to court. But, on the other hand, lawyers cost money, and your bank has already transferred out the money you embezzled, leaving you — if I’m remembering correctly — with something like a hundred pounds in that account.”

“But—” I started. Miss Pierce cut me off.

“Yes, the courts will supply free legal counsel, but frankly they’re not going to try very hard given the circumstances. Once Selecta hands this case off to the government, you’re going to be in that system, and Selecta will have to do everything it can to make sure you get made an example of.”

My jaw had gone slack. Miss Pierce looked at me for a long moment, as if to make certain I had absorbed the true shittiness of my circumstances, and then she continued, with a voice full of false sympathy.

"The choice is yours, Emily. Five years in prison, or six months in the Bad Girl Program. Which will it be?"

---