Chapter 43 - 42 Daddy

Chapter 43: Chapter 42 Daddy

I looked like I wanted to drop dead right there, my face burning red.

He didn’t move.

Then I can call you daddy.

The sentence kept bouncing in his head—or at least, that’s what it looked like, because he just stood there completely frozen. Not because he wanted it, but because in thirty-odd years of power and isolation, nobody had ever looked at him like he belonged to them.

He looked down at the little girl holding onto his leg. Then his gaze lifted to me, while my panic was almost palpable.

Instead of addressing the bomb she had just dropped, he bypassed the emotion entirely.

"Have you eaten?" he asked, his voice flat and even.

I blinked, knocked completely off balance by the pivot. "...What?"

He shifted his gaze down to Anastelle. "You said you were hungry."

Anastelle’s eyes lit up, "I want fries."

"I know."

He reached past us, tapped the intercom on the wall beside the door, and spoke into the grid. "Dinner."

That was it. No discussion. No explanation. He stepped past us into the room, walking like he owned the place.

Down in the dining room, the atmosphere was thick with awkwardness.

Anastelle sat right between us in an oversized chair, her legs swinging freely beneath the table. She didn’t possess the capacity for silence, talking through half the meal about her dolls, the garden, and everything in between, treating him like a fixture she had known for years.

Halfway through her plate, she reached across the white tablecloth. She picked up a single, golden french fry, bypassed her own plate entirely, and extended it toward him.

"Snackman."

He paused, holding his fork midway to his plate. "Hm?"

"Open."

I nearly choked on my water, coughing into my napkin as my eyes widened in horror.

He looked at the fry. Then he looked at Anastelle’s completely earnest, demanding little face.

Against every rule of his existence, he parted his lips and let her slide the fry into his mouth.

I looked like I was about to pass out. A billionaire worth billions, sitting in a private dining hall, being hand-fed junk food by a child.

He chewed slowly, swallowing.

Anastelle beamed, clearly proud of her accomplishment, and turned back to her plate.

"So..." she babbled, chewing happily as she looked back and forth between the two of us. "When are you getting married?"

I slammed my fork down. "ANASTELLE!"

He picked up his black coffee mug, taking a slow sip to hide the unmistakable twitch at the corner of his mouth.

Dinner ended, followed by a retreat upstairs as I hurried the child off to bed to prevent any further incidents.

It didn’t take long—she fell asleep.

I stopped beside the bed. Slowly, carefully, I reached down and pulled the edge of the blanket up higher, tucking it securely over her shoulders.

She didn’t wake up. She didn’t even stir.

Instead, her small brow relaxed against the pillow. A soft breath escaped her lips, followed by a sleepy, unconscious mumble.

"...Goodnight... daddy..."

To a child who grew up watching cartoons where everyone had a mommy and a daddy, it was probably just another word she’d picked up from a screen.

But to me?

It felt like the beginning of a problem I wasn’t ready to face.

Because the last thing we needed—the absolute last thing a woman trying to rebuild her life needed—was for my daughter to start seeing Laziel Monroe as a father.

.....

The chief of security stood across the office with a folder tucked beneath his arm. For the past five minutes, he had been watching his boss—or, more specifically, the corner of his boss’s mouth, which kept threatening to move upward. Very disturbing.

"...Sir."

Laziel didn’t look up. "Hm."

"...Are you alright?"

That finally got his attention. Laziel raised an eyebrow. "Define ’alright.’"

The chief gestured toward the document lying on the desk. "You’ve been looking at the same report for seven minutes."

Laziel glanced down. The file was upside down. Without a word, he turned it the right way. "...Continue."

The chief pressed his lips together. Something had happened after dinner, he just didn’t know what. He opened the folder. "The Singapore acquisition has been approved. The legal team is waiting for your signature."

Laziel signed without reading.

"The Dubai investors confirmed tomorrow’s meeting."

A signature.

"The board in Milan requested another statement regarding the academy incident."

Another signature.

The chief closed the folder. "One last thing."

Laziel leaned back. "The little one’s birthday."

Laziel’s pen stopped moving. "When?"

"The twenty-fourth, sir."

Silence. Then— "What preparations have been made?"

The chief blinked. "...Preparations?"

"For her birthday."

"...None."

Laziel frowned. "Why?"

The chief looked genuinely confused. "...Because she’s turning five."

"And?"

"..."

"A child only turns five once."

The chief stood there for a second before answering carefully. "I didn’t realize birthdays at that age required... planning."

"They do." Laziel stood and walked toward the window, slipping both hands into his pockets. "I don’t want supermarket balloons."

"No, sir."

"I don’t want clowns."

"...Understood."

"I don’t want music loud enough to make her cry."

"Yes, sir."

A brief pause. Then Laziel spoke again. "I want her to remember it."

The chief stared. "Sir... she’s only turning five."

"I know."

"So... how large should we make it?"

Laziel finally looked back at him. "As large as five years deserves."

The chief gave a slow nod. "I’ll begin making arrangements immediately."

"Good." He turned toward the door, then stopped. "Should I inform Miss Brenner?"

"No."

The chief looked back. "No?"

"I want it to be a surprise."

"...Understood." He reached for the doorknob, then paused again. "Oh. No reporters. No business partners. No politicians. No investors."

The chief frowned. "...Just children?"

Laziel nodded once. "Children should celebrate with children."

"Yes, sir."

"And..."

The chief waited.

"If there’s a pony... make sure it doesn’t bite."

The chief stared. "...A pony, sir?"

Laziel looked at him like the answer was obvious. "She’ll like one."

The chief nodded slowly. "I’ll find the friendliest pony in Milan."

"Good."

This time he left.