Is Childhood Disrupted Worth Reading?

My best friend’s father pinned me against the door and fucked me raw while his daughter stood two feet away on the other side and I came so hard I almost screamed his name. I know I shouldn’t want him. Chandler Callahan is twice my age, filthy rich, and completely off-limits. He’s the man who destroyed his own family, the man I should hate… but the second he growls “Who's Daddy's good girl?” my pussy gets soaked like it was made for him. He doesn’t just fuck me. He owns me. I used to be dry. Broken. Humiliated by every guy who tried. Now I’m dripping, desperate, and addicted to the one man who can actually make me wet. But secrets this filthy don’t stay hidden forever. And when the truth comes out, it’s going to ruin us both. So tell me… Is it my fault I have daddy issues… …or is it his for turning me into his perfect little slut?

The seventh time Dante Moretti served me divorce papers, I was sitting with my son in a cheap diner on Chicago's South Side. I forced a smile and brushed my hand over my son's hair. "Just wait a little longer, sweetheart. This time, Mommy will get custody of you." He stayed quiet for a long moment. Then he looked up and asked, “Mommy, how much do you need to sell me for before you're happy?” Before I could answer, he pulled a handwritten divorce agreement from his backpack and pushed it toward me. "I know you keep fighting Dad for me because you want more money from him." "I wrote the agreement for him. Please sign it. Dad is already tired. Stop making his life so hard." His handwriting was crooked, but every word had been written with care. Dante would give me three million dollars. At the bottom, in my son's childish scrawl, was one more line. [After you take the money, don't bother me, Dad, and Serena anymore. Let us be happy.] Serena was Dante's childhood sweetheart. The woman he trusted more than his own wife. For five years, I had stood against Dante's family, his lawyers, and half the Chicago underworld just to keep custody of my son. For him, I would've walked away with nothing. But the child I had raised for eight years had already chosen another mother. So why shouldn't I give their perfect little family exactly what they wanted?

This an autobiography of a man's childhood day, the horror and the dread that he went through, it also comprises of other happenings that made up his childhood day: both sad and happy moments.

My name is Chase Murphy. I've been married to Jessica Stanton for three years. After she tells me that she's infertile, she brings home two children from an orphanage. I raise them as my own, investing everything I have into their lives. But in return, they push me down the stairs without a second thought. "Now our real dad can finally be with Mom." In that split second, the truth crashes down on me. These aren't just any children—they belong to Jessica and her first love, Troy McPoland. When I open my eyes again, I find myself transported back to the day Jessica first introduces the children into our lives. This time, I'm done being the fool raising someone else's family.

The day I signed the divorce papers, I voluntarily gave up custody of my daughter. Because that day, in the courtroom, she clung to her father’s neck, sobbing with all the fury a six-year-old could muster: “You don’t even love me… do you? If you leave Daddy, I’ll stay with him… and you’ll be all alone forever!” In my past life, I had ignored her childish threats. I fought tooth and nail for her custody. I poured every ounce of myself into raising her. And yet… she spent her entire life hating me. Not once did she ever call me “Mom” until the day I died. On her wedding day, she even invited her father’s mistress to the stage to give a speech of thanks. Now, opening my eyes again, seeing that same cruel little face staring back at me, I simply nodded. “I don’t care.” After all… I never wanted a daughter like her anyway.

For nearly five centuries, no child has drawn a first breath. The Creator sealed the womb of the world, and humanity learned to live without its future. But in the depths of Triune, another kind of genesis rose. From the Middle comes a child with power and lineage to rival the Creator. Not born, but woven. Not raised, but awakened. Bodies shaped by design. Souls coaxed from silence. Each one a crafted echo of what humanity once was. Those who survive their emergence ascend to the Upper. Those who falter are reclaimed by the dark. On the night meant to mark their passage into adulthood, five friends stumble upon a truth older than scripture and sharper than prophecy: The first humans were not what they were told. The gods were not who they claimed to be. And the Children of Triune were never meant to ask why. Some truths don't set you free, they come for you.