My Mother's Husband Is My Sugar daddy

Chapter 12

I Don't Have A Dad

Over the next few days, these small moments piled up. Francis would casually ask about Adriana's day whenever he passed by the dining room, genuinely trying to involve her in conversation. "How was your art class today?" he would ask, his tone so gentle that it unnerved her. Sometimes, he would slip in a compliment so sincere that it lingered in the air: "You have a remarkable talent, Adriana." Yet, with every kind word, the more she felt the invisible hand of exclusion, an ache that grew from the perception that her mother, Luci, was falling for this man in a way that left her yearning for the love and attention she once had.

Adriana began to adopt small acts of rebellion. She started staying out late with friends, venturing out to parties and social gatherings where she could momentarily forget the heavy burden of loneliness creeping in each evening. Yet, no matter how hard she tried to mask her resentment with humor or indifference, the emptiness remained. When she returned home, she would long to feel that lingering connection with her family, but often found the halls of the mansion were strangely empty. Luci was always lost in conversation with Francis, and she was left to her own devices.

One such evening, after an especially long night out, Adriana stumbled into her room, her cheeks flushed, a mix of exhilaration and frustration playing across her face. She dropped her bag by her desk and sat down heavily. For a long time, she stared at the ceiling, her thoughts a tangle of resentment and secret longing.

Her phone buzzed; it was a text from an old friend asking if she was still up for an early morning walk in the park. The mundane offer highlighted the stark difference between her now and before Francis entered her life. Once upon a time, the house had resonated with laughter and family chatter. Now, it felt like a stage set for two souls who shared warmth while she remained a spectator in her own home.

Days turned to weeks, and the tension only deepened. One afternoon, as Luci and Francis returned from a business trip, an impromptu getaway designed to celebrate a small success, Adriana's defiance reached its peak. Luci, buoyed by the shared joy of a holiday, greeted them at the door with bright smiles and busy chatter. Yet, when Francis leaned in to kiss Luci's forehead, Adriana recoiled as though struck. She crossed her arms and retreated into the hallway, her face a storm of conflicting emotions.

"Adriana," Luci's voice rang out, warm yet laced with concern. Francis paused, his expression one of gentle confusion as he followed his wife into the corridor.

On the tiled floor, they found Adriana sitting alone, her arms were tightly wrapped around herself, and her eyes were fixed on something in the distance. "What's wrong?" Luci asked softly, kneeling beside her.

Adriana didn't meet her gaze. "I don't like him, Mom," she finally declared, voice trembling with anger and hurt.

Luci's heart sank. "Who don't you like?" she pressed, trying to hide the tremor in her tone.

"Francis. You love him so much and now you're always with him. I feel like I don't even exist." Tears welled in Adriana's eyes as she continued, "I feel replaced!"

Francis, who had been silent until now, spoke up cautiously, "Adriana, I never meant to make you feel that way. I care for your mother, and I care about you too."

Adriana looked at him with a mix of fury and confusion. "I don't want you to care," she snapped. "I want you to leave Mom alone."

That evening, a heated confrontation unfolded. Luci and Adriana sat at the dining table, an antique piece that had once been filled with laughter and now hosted tears and raised voices.

"Why are you doing this?" Luci asked, her voice cracking. "Why are you so angry? I thought you encouraged me to try new things, to be happy."

Adriana glared fiercely. "I was wrong," she said bitterly. "I was a fool to think that you could ever be happy with him. I wish it was my real Dad. I miss the way things were."

Luci's eyes filled with sorrow. "I miss him too, Adriana. But I promise you, I haven't forgotten what matters most."

"Then why do you spend so much time with him?" Adriana demanded. "Every evening, you're always with him, I don't even share your bed anymore. It feels like you're not even here with me."

Silence fell as the weight of her words sank in. Luci's hands trembled on the table as she tried to explain. "I'm trying my best, he's my husband, I'm married to him. But I love you more than anything in this world, I'm doing this so you can have a good life, so you can get to a better school, and have opportunities that I never had."

"But I'm missing you now," Adriana whispered, her voice barely audible. "I want you here with me, not just in the little moments in between."

That night, Luci lay beside her daughter, she stayed awake listening to the echoes of their argument replay in her mind. She wondered if she had been too caught up in the promise of a new life, too distracted by the allure of Francis's care, to notice that her daughter was slipping away

In the following days, the tension continued to bubble beneath the surface. Francis remained patient, he knew there was no quick fix to mend a daughter's hurt when she felt replaced. Instead, he endeavored to include Adriana subtly, leaving small notes in the kitchen, friendly reminders of shared meals and jokes. Yet, every small gesture seemed to reinforce the uncomfortable truth for Adriana: her mother was happier and more content, and somehow, he was the cause of that change.

As the weeks passed into months, things began a slow, painful evolution. Adriana's hostility gradually softened into reluctant curiosity. One breezy autumn afternoon, after returning from her institution, Adriana found Luci sitting alone in the conservatory, a glass-walled room filled with stray rays of sunlight, the scent of jasmines mingling with the crisp air. Francis wasn't there yet; he had been delayed on a call.

Adriana sat beside her mother, the silence heavy between them. Finally, Luci spoke quietly, "Adriana, I need you to try to understand. I love Francis, and part of that love is for you too."

Adriana's eyes flashed with anger before softening. "I know you do, Mom."

Luci reached over and took Adriana's hand. "You're not losing me, I'm still your mother. I want you to be part of this new chapter too. Maybe if you get to know him better, you won't feel so left out."

"I don't have a dad anymore!" Adriana nearly shouted, the pain of her loss breaking through her rebellion. For a brief, fragile moment, her mask of cold indifference cracked, revealing the vulnerable girl beneath.

Luci's voice was gentle but firm. "I know, sweetheart. I know it's hard, and I miss him too. But you deserve to see that there can be love again without erasing his memory."

After that conversation, Adriana's resistance, though still present, began to waver. She agreed to join them for family outings, a hesitant step toward bridging the gap. Francis, ever persistent and caring, continued to approach her with kindness. At first, his gestures felt like intrusions; but slowly, they began to spark moments of genuine connection.

One evening, as the three of them sat around a grand dining table set with fine china, Francis asked, "Adriana, what would you like to do for your birthday next month? I would love to plan something special for you."

Adriana looked up, startled by the sincere interest in his opinion. "I… I don't know," she mumbled. "Maybe something with my friends?"

Francis smiled warmly. "That sounds great. Let's make it happen."

The easy manner in which he included her in decisions and the kindness that shone in his eyes when he listened to her ideas all began to clash with the memory of her father's absence. Her emotions, once so angry, now blur into a confusing mix of resentment and reluctant admiration.