Daddy's Little Girl

Daddy's Little Girl Chapter 1 The moans were the first thing she heard, drifting through the doorway, coupled with bed creaking noises. Oh f**k Melissa, Liam moaned. His hands glided over her skin, mouth peppering kisses down her throat, his hips grinding hers in a passionate frenzy. A muffled, rhythmic pleasure soaked sound that didn’t belong to her. Amara stood frozen in the doorway of the penthouse suite, the hem of her gold-sequined dress catching the light like a mockery of the moment. Her heels were silent against the plush carpet as her gaze shifted, slowly and deliberately to the bed, shock ran through her bones, causing her to tilt back a little, and there he was. Liam Blackwood, naked, sweaty and reckless. Buried between the thighs of a woman whose face Amara didn’t recognize at the moment and didn’t care to. The woman gasped, turning to face her, Liam groaned, and then...the flash. Lights, Camera, Action. They'd followed her in, the paparazzi, like vultures, snapping shots of the golden couple’s golden crash. There would be no engagement announcement tonight, no fairy-tale caption on tomorrow’s tabloids. Just the brutal and glittering evidence of betrayal. Amara didn’t scream or flinch, didn’t even blink. She stepped fully into the room, straighten her back with her chin lifted. Her presence was thunderous, commanding, and terrifying in its silence. Liam froze, “Amara—” She raised one hand, palm up, not to slap him, or to reach for him. But to halt him. "A quickie was the surprise", she let out a scoff, clearly laced with mockery. "I thought you could do better, why not a threesome, or better yet an orgy, I mean since you love surprising me so much, why didn't you just bring in every girl you've ever f****d and give it to them, huh, be their daddy in bed, blackwood", She said with visible disgust and anger written all over her face, the statement caused stifled laughter to erupt from the reporters in the room. "I'm done with you Liam", She said and turned on her heel afterwards and walked away, her dress trailing like molten gold behind her, she didn’t run. Queens never did, even when the crown burned. Outside the penthouse a more chaotic scene cooked, reporters shouted and flashlights rained like a storm, Amara walked through them like she didn’t hear a thing, pushing her way through the curious minds of people shoving mics and cameras in her face . Like her heart hadn’t just cracked clean down the middle, like she hadn’t spent the last four years building Liam into the man he pretended to be. Two hours earlier. The mirror smiled back at her with soft approval. Amara adjusted the thin gold chain around her neck, smoothing the neckline of her dress, everything was perfect. Her skin, her curls, her makeup, her posture and most importantly, her patience. Tonight was supposed to be their night. Blackwood Enterprises' fifth-year anniversary since Liam took over, and she'd been by his side through every ruthless merger and PR scandal. The media had already crowned her the future Mrs. Blackwood and it was only a matter of time, plus with the velvet box she found hidden in his jacket pocket last week, she had every reason to believe the proposal was coming tonight. A text had buzzed in an hour ago: Suite 3400, Come upstairs, I have a surprise, a surprise...she smiled then, like a fool. In hindsight, the silence of the hallway should’ve warned her. The absence of security outside the door, the soft creak of the not-quite-shut entry, all the signs of carelessness were there or perhaps it was confidence. Liam must’ve believed she would never walk away, no matter what. He must’ve thought he was untouchable. Now, back in her own car, Amara’s hands gripped her phone so tightly her knuckles turned pale. Her publicist was calling and Liam was calling, texts poured in like floodwater. Liam: (3 missed calls) Liam: "Babe, it’s not what it looked like.” Liam: "We need to talk.” Liam: "Call me and we'll fix this". Liam: "Those vultures followed you in, this isn't my fault". Liam: "Amara, please respond ". Her thumb hovered over the screen. Four years...four years of smoothing his wrinkles, figurative and literal and this was her reward, a room stinking of s*x and shame, immortalized by flashbulbs. She almost laughed. The first time, she’d thrown a vase at his head. The second time, she’d locked herself in their bathroom for hours and by the fifth, she’d learned to smile through the press photos, her hand tight around his bicep like she could squeeze the disloyalty out of him. A mistake?, no it was a choice, he chose another woman, with someone she’d once paid a Christmas bonus to, in their bed, on this night, in front of everyone. The driver cleared his throat. "Where to, Ms. Reyes?" She watched raindrops slide down the window, "The Windsor", not home, never home again, not with Liam’s monogrammed towels in the bathroom, and his favorite whiskey in her cabinet. The car turned into the private garage beneath The Windsor. Her driver, Marco, the only person besides her best friend who knew about this place met her eyes in the rearview mirror. "Should I stay tonight ma'am?" Amara shook her head, "No, just keep the car running tomorrow." The elevator ride to the 12th floor was silent. The moment the penthouse door clicked shut behind her, the dam broke. She sobbed uncontrollably but not for him, no...never for him. But for herself. For the years she’d spent smoothing his edges, making excuses, and swallowing her pride because she’d convinced herself he was her escape. Her golden ticket. Her way out of the life she’d been born into. And what had it gotten her? A front-row seat to his betrayal, broadcasted to the world. Her tears dried fast. Amara wiped her face with the back of her hand, smudging mascara she didn’t remember applying. She pushed herself up, and walked to the mirror in the hallway, staring at the woman looking back. Smudged makeup, puffy eyes and a dress that cost more than most people’s rent, but beneath it all...anger. She turned away, stripping off the gold sequins like shedding skin. In the closet, her hands bypassed, a bunch of boxes that contained jewelry and watched Liam had gotten for her and the stupid cashmere scarf he’d given her for her 21st birthday. Instead, she pulled out a small, locked box from the back of her shelf. Inside: - A burner phone. - A USB drive labeled Tokyo. - A passport under a name that wasn’t hers. Amara traced the edge of the passport, then put it back...not yet. First, she’d let Liam sweat, allow him think he’d won. Let him send his pathetic apologies, his empty promises, and his mistakes. And when he least expected it? She’d remind him, that two ca n play at this game, she'll be the mistake he never saw coming.