Page 1 of Beauty and the Daddy

1

BELLE

The last normal moment of my life happens at 10:47 AM on a Tuesday, with my cat judging my life choices and Amy Poehler making me laugh so hard I snort coffee through my nose.

Then my father kicks open my bedroom door.

Not opens. Not knocks.Kicks.

Like he's SWAT and I'm harboring fugitives instead of binge-watching podcasts in yesterday's pajamas.

"Belle! Move! Now!"

He's already spinning toward the stairs, and I catch a flash of something I've never seen on my father's face before.

Terror.

"Dad, what the hell…"

"GET DRESSED!"

His voice cracks like a whip, and Meatball bolts under the bed.

My father doesn't yell. Ever.

The man once talked down an angry contractor twice his size using nothing but steady eye contact and a firm handshake.

This man screaming up my staircase? This isn't him.

I grab the first clothes I can find; a sundress that's too tight and probably too cheap for wherever we're going, and race after him.

He's already in the car, engine running, hands white-knuckling the steering wheel.

Forty-three minutes of silent driving later, we pull up to a building that shouldn't exist in this century.

It's all limestone and brass, the kind of architecture that whispers old money instead of shouting new wealth.

The doorman's suit costs more than my rent.

When he nods at my father…"Mr. Donovan, they're expecting you"...my stomach drops into my shoes.

They're expecting you.

Like this was planned. Like Dad knew exactly where he was bringing me.

The elevator has gold inlay work. Not gold-plated.Actual gold.

"Dad," I whisper as we rise. "Who are we meeting?"

He stares at the floor like it holds the secrets of the universe. "People who can help us."

But his voice shakes on 'help,' and I know we're ascending toward anything but.

I knew I should've changed clothes the second Dad started screaming like it was the apocalypse.

Him in a suit should've been my first red flag.

The office we're led to doesn't just display wealth—it weaponizes it.