The guilt didn’t disappear.
It lingered like a shadow in the corner of every room, watching me while Daddy f****d me, while I cooked for him naked except for the collar, while I knelt under his desk with his c**k in my mouth during conference calls.
I tried to push it down. I really did.
But three days after our emotional conversation, it finally spilled over.
I was in the kitchen preparing Daddy’s favorite meal when I heard him on the phone in his office. The door was slightly open. His voice was low, but I caught fragments.
“…yes, I ended things with Sophia… No, it’s complicated… She’s very special to me.”
My hands froze on the knife. “Special.” Not “my stepdaughter.” Not “my toy.” Just… special.
When he came out for dinner, I was quiet. Too quiet.
Daddy noticed immediately.
He
