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Chapter Two hundred and forty two

Author: Blessing. B
last update publish date: 2026-07-24 22:59:32

LEAH'S POV

I stand outside the hospital for a while with my phone still in my hand just staring at Damien's message.

Are you okay? Let me know when you're ready to come home.

Home.

I don't know where that is anymore, definitely not that safe house where everyone watches me like I might break.

It used to be our old house with the peeling paint when it was just Mom Shopie and me, then at some point it became Damien’s penthouse, where I'd spend the weekend with Emily, sneaking around with Dam
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  • Owned By My Best Friend's Father   Chapter Two hundred and forty three

    LEAH'S POV I sit in the booth for a long time, the hot chocolate warming my hands and the silence wrapping around me like a blanket. Mira sits across from me, watching me with those knowing eyes that don't push but don't look away either. The diner hums around us. The clink of cups and the low murmur of conversation. The hiss of the espresso machine. Normal sounds that make me feel like the world is still turning even though mine feels stuck. I look at the cup in my hands. The chocolate is almost gone. "I should go," I say quietly. "I've been here too long." Mira shakes her head. "You've been here as long as you need to be. You're always welcome here, mija. You know that." I nod. I do know that. She's always been like this. A constant in a world that keeps shifting under my feet. I reach for my phone. I haven't checked it since I walked in and stared at the screen for a long moment. Emily's name is at the top of my recent calls. She called me multiple times but I didn't answer

  • Owned By My Best Friend's Father   Chapter Two hundred and forty two

    LEAH'S POV I stand outside the hospital for a while with my phone still in my hand just staring at Damien's message. Are you okay? Let me know when you're ready to come home. Home. I don't know where that is anymore, definitely not that safe house where everyone watches me like I might break. It used to be our old house with the peeling paint when it was just Mom Shopie and me, then at some point it became Damien’s penthouse, where I'd spend the weekend with Emily, sneaking around with Damien behind her back. Then Elric came and moved us into the penthouse and for a while it was the best thing ever but now none of it feels like home anymore. I slipped my phone into my pocket and started walking with no destination in mind ... .I just needed to clear my head. Before I knew it I was back to the streets I haven't walked in months, the corner where I used to wait for the bus, the Laundromat where I did my laundry every Sunday because we had no washer in the house. Past the bench

  • Owned By My Best Friend's Father   Chapter Two hundred and forty one

    DAMIEN'S POV I push open the heavy doors and step inside. The prison corridor is dimly lit, the air thick with the smell of disinfectant and despair. I make my way toward the cell block where Samson was held, my footsteps echoing off the concrete walls. When I reach his cell, I stop. The door is open. Inside, a body lies on the floor, covered with a white sheet. Two guards stand nearby, their faces grim. "Mr. Cross," one of them says, stepping forward. "We weren't expecting you." "I need to see him." "Sir, I don't think—" "I said I need to see him." The guard exchanges a glance with his partner, then nods reluctantly. He pulls back the sheet. Samson's face is pale, his eyes half-open, his mouth frozen in a silent scream. I stare at the body, my mind goes blank. He's dead. He's actually dead. The threats he made, the promises to find Leah, to take her, to.… all gone. He can't hurt her anymore. And yet, I feel no relief. Only a cold, hollow emptiness. Elric's face flashes

  • Owned By My Best Friend's Father   Chapter Two hundred and forty

    DAMIEN'S POVI yank the car door open and slide into the back seat, slamming it shut so hard the whole car shakes.My hands tingle and are still raw from punching Samson earlier but it's nothing compared to the burning rage in my chest "Drive" I say in a flat and cold voice.Marcus glances at me in the rearview mirror. "Where to, sir?""Anywhere Marcus, figure it out just drive" I snapped at him and immediately felt bad but I didn't apologize.He doesn't ask any more questions and pulls away from the curb into the traffic.Samson's mocking voice keeps replaying in my head I'll find her. I'll take her. And maybe I'll even make you a grandfather when I'm done.Each time my chest clenches a little tighter until it becomes so tight I can't breathe in the car."Pull over" I say suddenly. "Pull over now."“Sir? Are you….” Marcus ask“I say pull over right now Marcus’” I yell at him He looks at me through the mirror but knows better than to argue before pulling over to the side of the road

  • Owned By My Best Friend's Father   Chapter Two hundred and thirty nine

    ISABELLA'S POV The penthouse was quiet except for the soft clink of ice in my glass as I poured myself another drink. The city lights stretched out below the floor-to-ceiling windows like a sea of stars, but tonight they brought me no comfort. I had been pacing the living room for the last twenty minutes, my heels clicking against the marble floor, when my phone rang. An unknown number calling at this hour? I almost ignored it. Almost. But something in my gut told me I needed to answer. I pressed the phone to my ear. “Hello?” The voice on the other end was cold and professional. “Samson is dead.” The glass slipped from my fingers and shattered on the floor. Red wine spread across the white marble. “What?” I whispered, my voice barely audible. “He was killed in custody. Made to look like suicide but we both know it isn't be careful.” The line went dead before I could say another word. I stood there frozen in the middle of the broken glass, staring at the phone in my hand.

  • Owned By My Best Friend's Father   Chapter Two hundred and thirty eight

    ELRIC'S POV I don't know how long I stayed on that cold floor. My knees hurt and my throat was raw from screaming. My father's hand was still in mine, cold and stiff, completely lifeless. The officers eventually managed to pull me away. I didn't fight them this time. I had no strength left. They led me to a small waiting room down the hall. Someone handed me a cup of water but I didn't drink it. I just sat there staring at the floor with the image of my father's pale face burned into my mind. Cassian's text kept flashing in my head. He failed me, no loose ends. He had killed him. My father had been loyal to him for years and Cassian threw him away like trash the second he became a problem. I hated him. I hated Damien. I hated all of it. After what felt like hours I finally stood up. My legs felt weak. I walked out of the precinct into the rain without saying another word to anyone. I stood by the sidewalk letting the rain wash over me. After what felt like hours I went back

  • Owned By My Best Friend's Father   Chapter Four

    I wake up alone.The bed is massive and empty, sheets cool on Damien’s side. Sunlight stabs through the blinds straight into my eyes. My body hurts in ways I didn’t expect — thighs burning from clamping around his head, core tender and swollen from how many times he made me come, nipples sensitive

  • Owned By My Best Friend's Father   Chapter Three

    I don’t know how long we stay on the couch like that—me curled in his lap, naked except for the slip dress bunched around my waist, him fully clothed but holding me like I’m the only thing that matters in the world. His hand strokes slow circles on my back, his lips brush my temple every few minute

  • Owned By My Best Friend's Father   Chapter Two

    The penthouse is too quiet at midnight.Emily crashed hours ago—too much rosé, too much sun, too much gossip about some guy she’s been texting. The rooftop lights are off, the pool dark and still. I’m standing outside Damien’s office door in the hallway that feels longer than it did this afternoon,

  • Owned By My Best Friend's Father   Chapter One

    I’m sweating before I even step off the elevator.Miami in July doesn’t care that I took two buses and walked six blocks in this dress. The heat clings like a second skin, making the thin white cotton stick to my ribs. My tote bag slaps against my hip—towel, dollar-store sunscreen, the dog-eared co

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