Daddy's Girl: Raised To Please Him

Chapter 6

The sharp sound of Euri's heels echoed through the halls, signaling her approach even before she stepped into the room. Sydney sat on the couch, scrolling aimlessly through her phone, her mind heavy with the weight of the therapy session she'd just had. She barely looked up when Euri entered, but the icy tone of her voice immediately caught her attention.

"So, you're seeing a therapist now?" Euri asked, her words clipped, eyes narrowing with disapproval.

Sydney stiffened but didn't respond right away. She set her phone down and met Euri's gaze. "Yes, I am," she said evenly, refusing to back down.

Euri's arms crossed over her chest, her expression hardening. "And you didn't think to tell me? Do you have any idea how this looks? What people will think if they find out? My foster daughter, sitting in a shrink's office, airing out God knows what kind of dirty laundry? Do you even care about this family's reputation?"

Sydney's patience, already frayed, snapped. She stood abruptly, her voice rising with every word. "You're worried about your reputation? That's what you're upset about? Not that I've been struggling, not that I'm trying to deal with everything that's happened to me, but that it might embarrass you?"

Euri took a step closer, her voice colder now. "Don't twist this around. I've worked hard to build this life, this family, and I won't have you tearing it apart because you can't keep your problems to yourself."

Sydney laughed bitterly, her hands trembling at her sides. "Tearing it apart? Do you even hear yourself? This family's been broken from the start, and you know it. You're just too busy pretending everything's perfect to see it!"

Euri's jaw tightened, but her voice remained calm, almost eerily so. "You don't understand the sacrifices I've made for you. For this family. Do you think any of this is easy for me?"

"Sacrifices?" Sydney's voice cracked, her frustration boiling over. "What sacrifices, Mom? Taking in a foster kid to keep up appearances? Playing the role of a perfect mother when you don't even want to be one? You didn't sacrifice anything for me. You just put me in a house and called it parenting!"

Euri's face twisted in anger, and for a moment, she seemed at a loss for words. Then, her voice turned sharp as a blade. "I gave you a home. I gave you opportunities. And this is how you repay me? By dragging my name through the mud?"

Sydney took a step forward, her eyes blazing with tears and fury. "You didn't give me a home, Mom. You gave me walls. Cold, empty walls. And you made sure I knew I didn't belong in them. You've treated me like a burden since the day I got here. So don't stand there and act like you've done me some great favor."

Euri's hand gripped the back of a chair so tightly that her knuckles turned white. "You have no idea what I've been through, Sydney just to get in here!"

Sydney's voice cracked as she interrupted, her chest heaving. "I don't care about your excuses! You didn't have to adopt me, Mom. You could have left me where I was. But you didn't. You brought me here, and then you made sure I felt unwanted every single day!"

Euri's voice rose, her calm facade finally breaking. "You think I wanted this?" she asked, her words tinged with regret. "I thought I could do this. I thought I could be what you needed. But I can't! I don't know how to love, Sydney. I never have!"

Sydney stared at her, her heart pounding in her chest. "You... you don't know how to love?" she whispered, her voice trembling. "Do you even hear how messed up that sounds? You don't know how to love, so what, you decided to ruin someone else's life along the way? That's not an excuse, Mom. That's just cruel."

Euri looked away, her chest rising and falling with uneven breaths. "I thought I could fake it," she admitted quietly. "I thought I could give you what you needed. But every time I tried, it just... felt wrong. Forced. I don't know how to be a mother. I never wanted to be one."

Sydney's tears flowed freely now, her voice breaking with every word. "Then why did you adopt me? Why did you take me in if you didn't want me? Was it just for the show? So you could play the part of a charitable woman? Or was it so you wouldn't feel so empty inside?... Oh, I forgot.... for your inheritance! My bad."

Euri flinched as if the words had physically struck her. "You think I wanted this?" she shot back, her voice cracking. "I didn't take you to that orphanage just for my inheritance... I thought it would fix something in me, okay? I thought... I thought having you here would fill the void. But it didn't. And I don't know how to fix that."

Sydney shook her head, her tears still falling. "It's not my job to fix you, Mom. I'm not here to fill the void your father left in you. I'm just... me. And if that's not enough for you, then maybe it's time I stop trying to be."

With that, Sydney turned and walked toward the door, her heart heavy but her resolve stronger than it had ever been.

Euri stood there, staring after her, the weight of their argument pressing down on her like a physical force. For the first time, she realized the full extent of the damage she had done-not just to Sydney, but to herself.

And for the first time, she wondered if it was too late to make things right.

Sydney didn't know where she was going. She just needed to get away from her mother, from the house, from everything that felt suffocating. The anger, the hurt, the abandonment-it all swirled around her, a toxic cocktail that made it hard to breathe. She stepped into the night, the cool air doing little to quell the fire inside her chest.

Her feet carried her to the garden, the familiar path that had always been a small solace. The fountain was quiet tonight, the water no longer splashing merrily but instead resting still, reflecting the dim glow of the nearby porch lights. It was almost peaceful, but peace felt too far away for her tonight.

She sat on the stone bench beside the fountain, her hands curled tightly in her lap as she stared at the dark water. The cool breeze ruffled her hair, but she didn't feel it. It was as if she had no more room in her heart for anything but the ache of betrayal.

She had always known her mother was distant, but this... this was something deeper. Euri had never wanted her. She had never even tried to love her. Sydney was just a project, a child to fill the space in a life that had been too hollow to begin with. Her mother's words, "I don't know how to love," echoed in her mind, a cruel reminder that everything she'd wanted-everything she'd dreamed of-had never been possible.

What hurt the most wasn't just the rejection-it was the realization that her mother had never even tried to love her. Euri had been too caught up in her own brokenness to see Sydney's.

But Sydney wasn't a child anymore. She wasn't the scared little girl who had been dragged into this house years ago. She was an adult, and she was done pretending to be something she wasn't for the sake of someone who never cared. The pain, the isolation-it had all been building up for years, and tonight, it had all come to a head.

She wiped her eyes, stood and walked over to the edge of the fountain, letting her fingers trail through the water. The coolness felt oddly comforting, grounding her in the moment.

But as the silence stretched on, the weight of her thoughts grew heavier. Her therapist had said that healing would come in pieces. But right now, Sydney felt like she was drowning, with no lifeline in sight.

She inhaled sharply, her throat tight as she thought about everything she had hidden from herself. The trauma. The nightmares. The fear. It was all too much, too overwhelming. No matter how hard she tried, it felt like she was sinking deeper into the dark place where the past had a hold on her.

That's when she heard the faintest sound of footsteps behind her. She didn't turn around, already knowing who it was. Her heart pounded harder in her chest. Her entire body tensed, her instinct telling her to flee. But something kept her rooted to the spot, even though every fiber of her being wanted to run.

Alan.

He stood there for a moment, his presence an undeniable weight in the air between them. She hadn't expected him, not tonight. He had never come out here after dark, and yet here he was, his figure casting a long shadow in the dim light.

Sydney could feel the tension mounting, the space between them charged with unspoken words and unresolved emotions. He was silent for a moment, his gaze fixed on her back.

"You okay?" His voice was low, almost hesitant as if he wasn't sure whether to approach or stay back.

Sydney closed her eyes briefly, the soft question only intensifying the chaos inside her. What did "okay" even mean anymore? She wasn't okay. She wasn't even close. But she couldn't say that to him, not now, not after everything.

"I'm fine," she replied curtly, still not turning to face him.

Alan seemed to hesitate, and for a moment, neither of them spoke. The air between them felt too thick, too heavy.

"I don't think you are," Alan finally said, his tone soft but firm. "I know it's none of my business, but I can't just walk away when you look like this. After everything that's happened..."

Sydney felt her chest tighten, a mixture of anger and hurt bubbling up inside her. "What do you want from me?" she snapped, her voice breaking despite her best efforts to stay composed. "You want to play the concerned foster father? Do you want to fix me? Because that's not going to happen. I'm not some project for you to save!"

The words hung in the air, more harsh than she intended. Alan didn't flinch, but there was a flicker in his eyes, something that betrayed the calm mask he wore. His gaze softened, though he quickly masked it, replacing it with something colder.

"I never said I wanted to fix you," Alan replied quietly, his voice rough, almost as if it pained him to speak. "But I care."

"Not now, please." her voice trembling. She feels like he makes her confused again.

"And I don't want your pity," she whispered harshly, her hands trembling at her sides, unsure whether to push him away or reach for him. She could feel the pull, a magnetic force that terrified her. "Don't pretend like you know what I need. You don't. You don't know me. You never have."

Alan's eyes darkened, his gaze intense as he took another step forward. "I'm not pretending," he said, his voice dangerously soft. "And you're right. I don't know you. Not yet. But I'm here for you. And you don't get to push me away when you need someone the most."

His words were a challenge, a subtle accusation. They hovered in the air between them, unspoken, but so damn clear. His proximity was suffocating, his breath mingling with hers, his presence so overwhelming that it felt like the world had closed in around them. The space between them crackled with tension, so palpable that Sydney could taste it on the tip of her tongue. The pull was too strong, too dangerous.

"Don't," she gasped, her voice unsteady. "You can't just walk in and out of my life when it's convenient for you. Don't make me believe you care."

For a moment, there was only silence, the kind that weighed heavily, like the calm before a storm. Alan's eyes softened, just slightly, but it was enough to send a shiver to her.

"I care more than you think," he replied, his voice so quiet, so dangerous, that it rattled her core. He was so close now, his breath warm against her skin, the tension thick between them. "And I'm not walking away anymore. Not this time."

Sydney's heart pounded in her chest, her pulse roaring in her ears, but she didn't know what to do, what to say. Every instinct in her told her to push him away, to keep the walls she'd built, but the more he stood there, the more she felt herself faltering. The distance between them had closed, and in that moment, the boundaries built felt fragile like they were about to crumble to dust.

Alan's hand reached out, his fingers brushing against hers, a touch that felt like fire against her skin. It was light, hesitant at first, but it was enough to send a jolt through her entire body. She froze, her eyes locking onto his, and for the first time, she saw something in him that she hadn't seen before-something raw, something that made her feel exposed, vulnerable.

"Why does it feel like you're trying to burn me, Alan?" she whispered, her voice barely audible, the question heavy with a mixture of fear and something she couldn't quite name. "You confused me... a lot. I don't know what's happening between us. You push me away for no reason whenever you just feel you wanted... and then you'll come here like nothing happens. You make me feel something I don't understand. Why does it feel like everything between us is going to destroy me?"

He didn't answer right away, his gaze dropping to her lips before returning to her eyes as if weighing his next words. The tension between them was unbearable, suffocating, and Sydney felt like she was teetering on the edge of something she couldn't control.

"I'm not trying to destroy you," Alan said, his voice hoarse. "But I'm not going to stand back and watch you destroy yourself either."

The words, the heat in his gaze, the way his body hovered just inches from hers-it was all too much. And in that moment, Sydney's heart raced in a way it never had before, her body betraying her even as her mind screamed for her to run, to escape, to protect herself from whatever this was becoming.

Before she could stop herself, before she could even think, she found herself leaning in, her lips almost brushing against his, the air between them crackling with electricity. Alan's breath hitched, his fingers tightening around hers, the subtle shift in his posture betraying the war waging inside him.

But in that split second, something inside Sydney snapped. Panic surged through her, the dangerous proximity of the moment crashing down on her. With a shaky breath, she pulled away, her heart pounding in her chest, the room feeling suddenly too small, too suffocating. She couldn't let this happen-not here, not like this. The thought of her mother lurking somewhere nearby, the risk of being caught in this dangerous game, sent a cold shiver through her.

She blinked, the confusion and desire still swirling in her chest, but her mind raced with the reality of what she had almost let happen. This wasn't the place for it-her mother was just a room away, and there were consequences to being seen like this. She couldn't afford to risk it, not when the stakes were so high.

Alan stood still, his expression unreadable, his breath heavy as he processed her sudden retreat. Sydney didn't even wait to gauge his reaction. Her heart was too loud in her ears, and her body too unsteady from the intensity of the moment. Without a word, she stepped back, creating the distance between them that had felt necessary all along.

Her chest tightened, her limbs trembling with the intensity of the emotions rushing through her, the weight of the moment crashing down on her like a tidal wave. She couldn't keep pretending, couldn't keep acting like she wasn't being pulled into something she couldn't control.

As she stood there, frozen in place, the silence between them was suffocating. Alan's eyes, once intense with desire, now seemed to hold something darker, something unspoken. But she couldn't look at him anymore. She couldn't risk it.

She stood frozen, her chest heaving, emotions swirling in a chaotic storm. The silence between them stretched thin, suffocating in its weight. Alan didn't speak, but then, he rarely did. His gaze rested on her with an intensity that made her chest tighten, as though he could see through every wall she had so carefully built.

The air felt heavier with every passing moment, and Sydney couldn't bear it any longer. She turned to him, her face carefully composed, though her voice trembled slightly when she spoke. "This," she began, "this has to stop."

He tilted his head slightly, his expression became unreadable. His silence was maddening, not because it lacked emotion, but because it carried too much. His quiet restraint had always unnerved her as if he held back words that might shatter her completely.

"I don't mean to sound harsh," she continued, her fingers clutching the edge of her sleeve as if to ground herself. "But I can't keep... feeling this way. Every time you're near, I feel like I'm losing control, and it's confusing me."

He didn't move, his posture steady, calm, as if he were giving her the space to unravel on her own terms. But his silence wasn't indifferent-it was deliberate like he was waiting for her to say something she hadn't yet admitted to herself.

Sydney's heart clenched at his lack of response. She wanted him to speak, to argue, to give her a reason to stay. But Alan wasn't like that. He never pushed, never demanded, and somehow that made it harder.

She wrapped her arms around herself, her voice growing firmer as she pressed on. "I need space. I need to figure out what's real and what's not. And I can't do that with you always... always looking at me like that."

His eyes flickered-just barely-but he said nothing. His silence felt louder than any argument, and it made her chest ache. She wanted to scream, to shake him, to demand that he say something, anything. But he just stood there, patient and unwavering, as though waiting for her to decide.

Her hands balled into fists at her sides, her frustration bubbling over. "Say something," she snapped, her voice cracking despite herself. "Don't just stand there and look at me like you understand, like-like you know what I'm going through."

Alan's gaze softened, but his quiet resolve remained. He shifted slightly, his shoulders relaxing as if to show he wasn't a threat, wasn't going to fight her. Finally, he spoke, his voice low and even, like the steady hum of a storm in the distance.

"If that's what you need," he said simply.

The simplicity of his response knocked the wind out of her. No arguments, no protests, just a quiet acceptance that made her feel even worse.

She swallowed hard, her throat tightening. "Thank you," she said, the words clipped and hollow.

He nodded once, his face calm but unreadable. "I won't stop caring," he said, his voice barely above a whisper, but the words hit her like a wave.

Sydney froze, her resolve faltering for just a moment. She forced herself to turn away, her steps heavy as she moved toward the staircase. She didn't look back, afraid that if she saw him standing there, so quiet and still, she might break completely.

. The danger of this-whatever it was-had just become all too real. Her mind raced, but there was one undeniable truth that burned through it all: she couldn't let herself fall into whatever this was between them. It was too much. Too dangerous.

As her thoughts spiraled, Sydney's pulse quickened, the fire he had ignited within her leaving her burning, but it was a fire she could not afford to feed. The consequences were too great, and she couldn't let herself forget that.

As she walked away from Alan, her steps unsteady, her body trembling. She needed space-she needed to think. But the deeper she thought, the more tangled everything became.

She paused near the grand staircase, her back pressed against the cold marble railing as the weight of her own betrayal crushed her chest. She had always been the one to quietly bear the distance between her and her mother. But now, with the intensity of her emotions for Alan clawing at her insides, everything felt different. How could she possibly ask for affection from her mother, when the one person who should've been the boundary between her and this forbidden attraction was the one who was unknowingly feeding it?

It was a betrayal. The thought hit her like a punch to the stomach, and she had to catch her breath. How could she feel this way for Alan when her entire life had been marked by the absence of love, by the quiet rejection of her mother? How could she even dare to want anything from her mother now-when she felt more alone than ever before, caught between her trauma, her need for love, and the complicated, overwhelming pull she felt toward her foster father?

Every inch of her screamed in confusion, her heart torn between longing and guilt. She had grown up watching others love their parents, and share moments of warmth, affection, and tenderness. But none of that had been for her. Her mother had never shown her affection, never truly acknowledged her, beyond the occasional nod or cold instruction.

And now, Sydney found herself drowning in a secret, a dangerous attraction to Alan-her father figure, her foster father, the man who had unknowingly become a part of the dangerous game she never wanted to play.

But wasn't it too late to turn back?

She slid down the railing, sitting heavily on the floor, her hands running through her hair in frustration. The guilt was suffocating. How could she face her mother now?

Sydney closed her eyes, letting out a ragged breath, as the turmoil inside her roiled. She wasn't sure which part of this she feared the most-the trauma of her past that had once consumed her, or the fire that was beginning to burn out of control in her heart. She had kept everything bottled up for so long and had spent her life pretending she didn't need love, but now it was clear that she needed it more than anything.

But the consequences of asking for it-the guilt, the betrayal-were too much to bear.

"What's happening to me?" she murmured.