DADDY'S FORBIDDEN PRIZE

The Game Tightens

I walked away that night telling myself I had won.

I hadn’t fallen into his arms. I hadn’t given in to the dark promise in his eyes. I had kept my pride, my distance.

But the truth?

Every step I took away from him felt like running from gravity—impossible, futile. Because even as I left, his voice followed me, curling around my thoughts: When I take you, little one, you’ll never think of him again.

And part of me was terrified he might be right.

The next days dragged like a test I couldn’t prepare for. My phone buzzed constantly with my ex’s messages—angry, desperate, pathetic. He showed up at my door once, pounding until the neighbours complained, yelling promises I no longer believed. I didn’t open. I didn’t even flinch.

But then, late one night, a black car pulled up outside my building. Sleek, expensive, silent. My pulse spiked even before I saw him step out.

His father.

He didn’t come to the door. He didn’t call. He just leaned against the car, smoking, his eyes fixed on my window like he knew I’d be watching. Like he knew I couldn’t not look.

And God help me, I couldn’t.

I pressed my forehead to the cool glass, my body buzzing with a mix of defiance and want. He didn’t move, didn’t wave, didn’t beckon. He simply existed—calm, unshaken, patient. A king waiting for his prize to kneel.

When I finally shut the curtains, my hands trembled. Not with fear, but with the dizzying realization that this wasn’t a chase I could outrun.

The next day, I saw him again—this time at a high-end restaurant downtown. I had gone there alone to clear my head, only to feel that same sharp gaze pin me in place the moment I walked in. He was seated in the corner, dressed in black, power radiating from him like heat from fire.

When the waiter seated me across the room, his lips curved ever so slightly, as if amused. As if he had arranged it all.

I ordered a drink I didn’t even want, pretending not to glance his way, but I felt him everywhere. Watching. Waiting.

And when I finally dared meet his gaze, he lifted his glass in a slow, deliberate toast. A silent promise.

This wasn’t comfort anymore.

This was pursuit.

And I had just realized—I wasn’t the hunter in this game.

I was the prey.