DADDY'S FORBIDDEN PRIZE

Whispers Crushed

By the next evening, the whispers had grown louder. Servants paused when she walked past, their eyes glinting with judgment, tongues dripping poison planted by his son. She could feel the weight of their stares, the smirk of satisfaction on the boy’s lips every time their eyes met.

It almost amused her. Almost.

Instead of shrinking, she made herself brighter. That night, she walked into the estate’s grand lounge wearing silk the colour of spilt wine, every movement deliberate, every glance calculated. She knew his father would be there, entertaining associates, and more importantly—his son would be watching.

“Gentlemen,” she purred as she entered, all conversation halting. She leaned lightly against the back of her lover’s chair, her manicured nails tracing the edge of his shoulder with an intimacy that screamed possession. “Forgive me for interrupting… but I thought perhaps the night needed a little beauty.”

The men chuckled, admiring, some even envious. His father smirked, pulling her onto his lap as though she belonged there. “You see why I never let her out of my sight?” he said proudly, his hand possessively at her waist.

The son’s jaw tightened. His plan—his rumors—were crumbling before his eyes.

But she wasn’t done.

With a soft laugh, she turned her face toward him, her voice rising just enough for everyone to hear. “It’s funny, isn’t it? How lies spread in dark corners. How cowards whisper about things they wish were true.” Her gaze locked onto his, sharp as glass. “But the truth always shines, doesn’t it?”

The room went silent. Every man’s eyes darted between father and son, sensing the hidden tension. The son flushed with fury, his fists clenched so tight his knuckles whitened.

She leaned down, pressing a kiss to the father’s cheek, her eyes never leaving the boy. “Some boys will always be boys,” she said sweetly, the venom in her tone unmistakable.

The room erupted in laughter, and the son humiliated before men he had once admired. His father’s hand tightened around her waist, pride glowing in his eyes—not just at having her, but at how ruthlessly she handled the situation.

The whispers stopped that night. Not because they believed her innocent—but because they now feared her.

And the son? His revenge burned hotter than ever, but now it was laced with humiliation. She had struck him where it hurt most.