My Dangerous Godfather is my Husband

Kelsey Schmidt “You are a f*****g loser, Kelsey!” A slap from my father made me fall on the clean carpet of our living room that I paid for. Using the money that I earned since I joined the Formula Academy 3 years ago, I am now twenty years old. “A second place?! What are you going to do with a second place?!” Race season is over, and for my father, being second place in the championship is a loss and not useful for him. He wants me to always be number one, but he can't even be in Formula One. I slowly wiped the blood on my nose and looked at my stepmother, Natalia, for help, but she just rolled her eyes at me. I know she will do that, but I still try. My mom died because of childbirth, and my father, Kennedy, hates me because I am a girl and not a boy. He’s always been hard to me since I was a kid. I don’t even have time to go to school because, at a young age, I need to be on track to do car racing that I never wanted. “Why?” I asked confidently. “What?!” I slowly stood up in front of him. My clothes are ruined, my long black hair is ruined. My lips are bloody again, like last week. “Why are you mad?” I calmly asked. “Because I did not get the money for the champion that you will just use to pay your debt?” I smirked when I saw his face start to turn red. This is the first time that I answered him. I don’t care. I am done with my life, but now I know he’s not going to kill me because I still have a one-year contract with Mercedes. “You are mad because you can’t get what you want,” I added. “Shut up! You stupid b***h!” He punched me in my face this time, which made me fall onto the center table and immediately break down. I felt all the glasses go through my body, but I did not feel any pain because I am used to it now. If you have a father who always uses you as a punching bag, pain is like a normal thing now. Hopefully, this is the end of me. I just want him to kill me so I can meet my mom again. My father grabbed my hair and made me face him. “Listen, carefully, Kelsey, you are nothing but a pawn that I will use in this life. No one will ever save you in this hell!” “You are an addict and a gambler,” I said, hardly. “Even if I got the money from the championship in the first place, that still will not be enough to pay all your debt.” He lifted his hand and was about to slap me again when a cold voice echoed through our living room that I'd been waiting for my whole life. Someone that will save me. “Touch her, and I’m telling you, tomorrow, you will lose that hand, Kennedy.” My father released my hair, and I slowly looked by our door and saw him. My late grandfather’s friend. My godfather. Anthony Pierson French. “She’s my child, Anthony! I can do whatever I want to her!” “Hmm.” The single syllable is lethal. Anthony steps forward, and a wall of heavily built men in obsidian suits moves in right behind him, instantly swallowing the oxygen in the room and sealing off every exit. He is dressed in head-to-toe black, looking less like a guest and more like a man arriving early to the funeral of someone else's. His tailored tuxedo jacket is unbuttoned, exposing a black silk shirt underneath that’s open down his chest. The stark contrast of his pale skin against the dense, violent artistry of black ink is blinding. Intricate, heavy tattoos climb up his collarbones, crawl aggressively up his throat, and peek just under the edge of his jawline. He is darker, sharper, and far more terrifying than he was the last time I saw him at my eighteenth-birthday party, when he’d stood quietly in the corner like a storm waiting to break. “I know you’re drowning in bad debts, Kennedy,” Anthony says, his voice a low, gravelly baritone that vibrates right through the floorboards. “Since you’re my old friend’s boy... I suppose I should offer a lifeline.” From the floor, I slowly shake my head, pressing my palms against the sharp edges of the glass as a cold panic locks my throat. Please no. Don’t bail him out. He’ll gamble it all away by sunrise and make me pay for every single cent with my skin. “And what’s your price?” my dad asks, his greed instantly overriding his fear, his eyes glittering at the mention of cleared ledgers. I stare down at the bloody glass scattered around my knees, my stomach turning to lead. I know how this game is played. If Anthony saves him, my cage won’t disappear, and it will just get worse because my father will become an even more desperate monster. “I want Kelsey,” Anthony says. “What do you mean, you want her?” Natalia finally speaks up from the shadows, her voice sharp with sudden, selfish panic. For someone who stayed silent while I bled, she suddenly looked very interested in my inventory value. Anthony doesn’t even grace her with a glance. His dark, unreadable gaze remains locked entirely on my father, heavy with a hunger that has nothing to do with charity. “I’ll wipe clean every single cent you owe to every dangerous man in this city,” Anthony says, stepping closer until his polished leather shoes are inches from the glass. “Every debt, every marker, every threat. But in exchange... I’m taking her home with me.”