All Chapters of Accidentally Married to my Ex-Boyfriend’s Father : Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

~SophiaThe engine of Nathaniel's black Ferrari purred smoothly as I sat in the plush leather seat, my fingers lightly tracing the contours of the interior. It was a gift from Nathaniel, something temporary, he had said, until he surprised me with a car of my own. His idea of spoiling me was excessive, but I wasn’t complaining. The sleek, powerful car was impossible to ignore as it turned heads with its glossy black finish. I didn’t even have to pay for gas, much less parking. It was his world, and I was just living in it. But it was never just about the material things with Nathaniel. It was the way he looked at me, like I was something worth having—something he wanted to keep. That possessive nature of his both thrilled and unsettled me. I still didn’t know if I was ready for everything he was offering, but I was starting to understand the world I had stepped into. Charles, the ever-efficient driver Nathaniel assigned to me, exited the car and opened the door. “Ma’am,” he said p

~SophiaThe sound of water dripping from the faucet echoed in the bathroom as I stepped out of the shower, my skin still warm and dewy from the steam. I wiped the fogged-up mirror and caught my reflection—my hair still damp, my face flushed with the freshness of the bath. I smiled to myself, feeling a sense of calm that only a quiet evening at home could bring. After the madness of the day, I needed this moment. I ran a towel through my hair and wrapped it around myself, leaning against the bathroom counter as I let my mind wander. Ethan. The thought of him made me chuckle. What a clown. I muttered under my breath with a smirk. I quickly dressed into my soft, silk nightgown, the fabric cool and smooth against my skin. As I reached for the bottle of perfume on the counter, I sprayed a light mist into the air, letting the floral notes fill the space around me. I closed my eyes, inhaling deeply. “I need to smell nice for Nathaniel,” I whispered to myself, half-amused by the though

~SophiaBut before he could answer, the sound of his phone buzzing broke the moment, pulling his attention away. He looked down at the screen and let out a deep breath. “I’ll tell you later,” he muttered, his voice strained as he picked up the phone and glanced at the message. And just like that, the moment was gone. Nathaniel’s phone buzzed again, and this time he pushed back his chair, stood up, and walked toward the living room. “I’ll be back in a jiffy,” he said with a faint smile, his voice light as if he were trying to reassure me. I nodded but watched him go with a sinking feeling. Something was off, but I decided not to push it further tonight. I’d give him his space—for now. ---The next morning, sunlight streamed through the curtains, warming the room as I zipped up my last suitcase. My things were neatly packed and ready by the door. I hadn’t told Nathaniel about my plans to head back to my place today, not wanting to disrupt his already-tense mood last night.

~NathanielThe car hummed beneath me, the vibrations blending with the chaotic whirlpool of my thoughts. I stared at the small slip of paper in my hand, the address scrawled in faint ink, almost as if it was mocking me for hesitating this long. “She’s there,” I muttered under my breath, the reality sinking in like a heavy stone dropped into a still pond. The masked Shakira. The woman who had haunted my dreams for the last five years. The thought of facing her now felt like walking willingly into a lion’s den. I leaned back, closing my eyes as the scenarios played out in my mind. What would she say? Would she even open the door? I pictured her standing there, her face twisting with anger. Maybe she’d hurl a bucket of scalding hot water at me or, worse, cold water—sharp, unwelcoming, and utterly humiliating. Or perhaps she’d say nothing at all, slamming the door in my face with a finality that would reverberate through my chest. My fingers drummed against the door handle

~NathanielI leaned back in my leather chair, staring at the mountain of paperwork on my desk. It had been three days of nonstop meetings, calls, and chaos. The clock on the wall ticked relentlessly, reminding me I hadn’t had a moment to breathe. Just as I reached for my coffee, my phone buzzed. I picked it up, seeing one of my men’s names flashing on the screen. “What is it?” I asked, my voice edged with exhaustion. “Sir, just checking in. Have you had the chance to visit that address we found for Miss Shakira?” I let out a long sigh, rubbing my temples. Shakira. That name. That damned mask. It had haunted me for days, and every time I thought about pursuing it, something else came up. “No,” I snapped, sharper than I intended. “Something came up, as usual. Maybe some other time.” “Understood, sir,” he said, his tone cautious. I ended the call, tossing the phone onto the desk. “Later,” I muttered to myself. “I’ll deal with it later.” For now, I had bigger things to foc