Page 186 of Breeding Her: The Red Flag Edition
And the daughter who wore a white blouse, navy pinafore, head dipped, eyes peering through glasses. No smile. Not a real one. Just a ghost of one.
That little girl was Callie.
Sweet, quiet Callie who couldn’t raise her voice if she tried. Who flinched at conflict but took my cock like she was starving for it. That child in the photo had never been allowed to just… be.
She looked about the same age Harry was now.
And I couldn’t imagine Harry or Ella like this.
Every picture Sophie or Eric sent was chaos, love, messy hair, missing socks—joy. Real joy.
My gut wasn’t wrong.
I trawled through more images. They were all the same—different years, different events, but the same stiffness in their poses, the same vacant smiles. Nothing about those photos looked joyful. They looked curated. Controlled. As if every snapshot had been rehearsed and approved before the shutter clicked. Francine stood like a queen surveying her kingdom, her posture rigid and prideful. Callie looked like a shadow of a child. Always neat, always polite, but never at ease. Never carefree or messy.
A slow burn lit in my chest. I scrubbed a hand down my face, jaw tight.
If Callie wanted to be a brat for the rest of our lives, I’d buy her a tiara and roll out a fucking red carpet. She could scream at me, throw things, test me, tease me—I’d welcome it. At least she’d be free.
I looked back at the monitors.
Lucky for them that she didn’t belong to them anymore.
She belonged to me now.
And if either of them tried their bullshit with Callie, I’d show them what righteous fucking fury looked like.
I grabbed my phone, thumb hovering over the FaceTime button.
Time to call my parents. I didn’t appreciate them enough. They were coming home for Christmas, but that was months away.
No.
They’d come for my wedding.
I grinned and tapped the icon.
?? ?? ??
I was armed—locked, loaded, and already half-hard—for a filthy weekend away at my lodge. As I unlocked the door, I watched her from the corner of my eye. Her lips parted with a soft gasp the moment she stepped inside. That was the sound I came here for. I smiled, following her in and shutting the door behind us.
The open-plan living room was flooded with natural light, framed by floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking rolling green hills and an endless sky. I could’ve brought her to a five-starsuite in the city, but this was better. Quiet and isolated. There was no escaping me.
She rushed forward, tossing her bag onto the couch before spinning around like a fucking dream. Her eyes were wide, gleaming with that curious light I loved.
“How many properties do you actually have?” she asked, stepping toward the window, mesmerised.
“Enough to retire,” I said, stalking up behind her. I let my hands slide over her waist, then down to rest over the soft curve of her stomach.
She leaned back into me without hesitation. That always did something to me. Like her body was built to fit mine.
“Hm. Rich and old,” she murmured. “Does that make me a gold digger?”
I chuckled, lowering my head to kiss the side of her neck. “Nah, baby. You’d still want me for my cock even if I were broke.”
Then I moved one hand down and palmed her crotch through her leggings. Her breath hitched.
“You’d come for this,” I whispered against her ear, “again and again—same as you do now.”
