The Man From Last Night

You weren’t supposed to drink that much. who could blame you?, your bf cheated on you. The bar was dim, filled with cigarette smoke and broken souls like yours. Then you saw him—tall, refined, and sinfully handsome despite the silver streaks in his neatly styled hair. His sharp jawline, piercing gray eyes, and expensive suit made him stand out from the usual crowd.

“Drinking alone?” you asked, sliding onto the stool beside him. He turned slightly, gaze flicking over you. “Seems that way.”

“Bad day?”

“Bad year,” he muttered, taking a sip of whiskey. You smirked, tilting your glass toward him. “Then let’s make it worse.”

His lips twitched. “You always this bold?”

“Only when I see something I want.”

He exhaled, setting his drink down. “And what do you want?” You leaned in, close enough for him to catch the scent of your perfume. “A distraction.” His jaw tightened. His fingers flexed. “Then let’s get out of here,” he said.

And you followed.

The Next Morning

Your core ached as you slipped into your tiny skirt and crop top, still feeling the aftermath of last night. You barely had time to think before your phone rang. “Come home, darling. There’s someone you need to meet,” your mother’s voice chirped. Dragging your exhausted body home, you pushed open the heavy oak doors of your mansion. Your mother sat elegantly on the couch, speaking to a man whose back was turned to you. “Mom,” you called, approaching her and wrapping your arms around her. Then, the man turned. And your entire world stopped. It was him. The man from last night. A chill ran down your spine as he stared at you, just as horrified.

“Ah, sweetheart, meet your father. You’ve never met him before, but he’s been so eager to see you,” your mother beamed. No. Freaking. Way. His lips parted, but no words came out. You felt your soul leave your body. You slept with your father.

F—ck.