Page 18 of Daddy King

He can’t be my father. Can he?

His eyes are a mirrored color of mine and I have seen mine for the last eighteen years. I have wanted to know what happened to him for those years, wondering why he didn’t want me or why he never bothered to call if he’s alive.

A part of me thought he was dead, but the hopeful part of me wanted to have a family that I have blood relations too.

“Escort them out.” Daddy’s voice barks, shielding me from the sunlight and the two men in uniform.

There are heavy boots on the ground, trudging away from us and disappointment fills me.

Did he not want to meet me, or talk to me? Why isn’t he putting up a fight to see his daughter?

I whimper.

He doesn’t want me. Of course he doesn’t want me. He never saw me even during birth, he has no feelings for me other than that his sperm created half of me. My heart hurts, naivety got the best of me. I truly believed that one day I would get to meet him if he wasn’t dead and we would reconnect as a family, and maybe have dinner together.

I sniff, bringing back the tears that are rolling around in my eyes.

Daddy puts his arm under my knees and lifts me up, a princess-carry for me. I bury my face in his neck and swallow down the sob, it sounds too wet in my ear and Daddy would definitely know that I’m crying.

I’m a big girl, tears are not for big girls.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, a teardrop falls on my forearm and drips down to Daddy’s warm neck.

He rumbles, “You have nothing to be sorry for, little girl.”

A hiccup jolts me, tears come tumbling down and I’m useless to stop them. Daddy’s heavy steps bring us to his main office, I know it by the smell of freshness that’s the opposite of the bedroom. Daddy used to spend so much time here that his smell is a part of the signature things in here.

He sits down on his chair with me in his lap, I look up and expect to see the stubbles on his face, but it’s his dark eyes that take me in. I smooch his strong jaw and squeeze my body closer, I would become one with Daddy if I can. Then, he can shield me from these negative feelings.

“Stop crying,” Daddy demands, “It hurts me to see you like this.”

“But—” I sniff, swallowing down the lump in my throat.

“Wipe your tears.”

I do as he says, unwinding my arms around his neck and dry the excessive tears with the back of my hands.

“Good girl,” he praises.

“Mm,” I nod, “Daddy’s good girl.”

It makes me feel better saying it.

“Do you want to know why he was here?” it doesn’t sound like a question, but I nod either way.

I need to know.

“He made a proposal,” Daddy said.

I furrow my brows, rubbing the last bit of tears from my lashes.

“His proposal was that I either let you go with one of his subordinates and you would get a relationship with your father, or you marry me and he will never see you again.”

My eye widens at the preposterous proposal. It’s not fair, so not fair that I can’t have both. I want to marry Daddy and have a relationship with my father, but life isn’t fair to anyone.

“W-what did you say, Daddy?”

I fear for his answer, even I don’t know how to choose.

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