All Chapters of Let Me Go Daddy, I Am Engaged To Your Son!: Chapter 101 - Chapter 110

Marcus’s POVShe led me toward the display table, still talking, her words tumbling out in a rush. "Have you read any of her other books? She used to write these sweet little romances, the kind you'd take on a beach vacation and forget about by the time you got home. But this one? This one is completely unhinged in the best possible way. It's like she finally stopped caring what people would think and just went for it.""Sounds great," I managed."It's more than great. It's iconic." She grabbed a copy from the top of the pyramid and pressed it into my hands. "The father-in-law character is unreal. He's so charismatic and intense that you completely understand why she can't resist him even though you're screaming at her to just walk away. Every time she tells herself she's done with him, he shows up and she loses all her brain cells. It's frustrating but also weirdly relatable, you know?"I didn't know. I didn't know anything anymore.The women from the table had noticed us now. One

Marcus's POV Maya was already in the booth when I walked in, her hands wrapped around a cup of coffee that had stopped steaming a long time ago. She looked up when she heard the door, and her face did something complicated, a flicker of relief that I had shown up followed immediately by the kind of dread that comes from knowing you are about to detonate a bomb you have been cradling against your chest for months. Her shoulders hunched forward and her fingers trembled slightly against the ceramic mug, and I could see the weight of everything she had been carrying in the dark circles under her eyes and the way she couldn't quite meet my gaze. I slid into the seat across from her without saying anything. The book was still in my car, locked in the glove compartment where I didn't have to look at it, but the words were burned into my memory now and I couldn't stop replaying them. The handshake. The brunch. The morning after when Iris had jumped me with a hunger I had never seen before,

Marcus's POVThe café door swung shut behind me, and the night air hit my face like a cold washcloth that did nothing to clear my head. I stood on the sidewalk for a moment while Maya's words echoed through my skull in an endless loop, each revelation stacking on top of the last until the weight of them threatened to buckle my knees. She had been with him the night before our wedding. She had drugged me on my wedding night so I wouldn't notice she wasn't a virgin. My father had orchestrated my trip to Chicago so he could be the one to rescue her when she collapsed, so he could carry her to his bed while I sat in a hotel room three states away, oblivious, trusting and utterly deceived.I got into the car and pulled away from the curb without any clear idea of where I was going. The streets blurred past my windows in streaks of neon and shadow while my mind kept circling back to the same images like a tongue probing a broken tooth. Iris in my father's bed, Iris slipping something into

Iris's POV He didn't speak to me the next morning. I came downstairs after a sleepless night to find him already in the kitchen, moving around with that same deliberate calm he had worn since the moment he walked through the garage door with all those bags. There was coffee brewing and eggs on the stove and two plates set on the counter, and for one disorienting moment everything looked so normal that I almost convinced myself the previous night had been a nightmare. Then I saw his eyes when he turned to hand me a mug of coffee, and I knew it wasn't. There was nothing there. No warmth, no anger, no grief. Just a flat gray calm that belonged to a man I had never met before, a man who had replaced my husband while I was away on tour. I wrapped my hands around the mug and sat at the kitchen table because I didn't know what else to do. He finished making breakfast and slid a plate toward me, two eggs over easy and a slice of toast cut diagonally the way I liked it. The gesture was so

Iris's POVHe left me alone with my confession for hours. I stayed on the couch because I didn't know where else to go, my legs drawn up beneath me and my eyes fixed on the study door that had clicked shut behind him with a finality that echoed through the empty rooms. The house was silent except for the occasional creak of the floorboards overhead and the distant hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen, and every minute that passed without him emerging felt like a small eternity. I had spilled every secret I had been carrying for months, every terrible choice and every weak excuse, and he had given me two words before walking away. The waiting was unbearable. Not knowing what he was thinking or what he planned to do, not knowing if he was calling a lawyer or packing my bags or simply sitting in that study with his head in his hands, was worse than any punishment he could have devised. I’ve spent two days trapped in this house with his silence, and thought that was the worst thing he