Page 133 of Beauty and the Daddy

She stands at my side, her hand warm in mine, her other palm instinctively cupping the curve of her stomach like she's protecting her child.

He sees it and freezes, mouth parting, tears filling his eyes faster than he can blink them away.

"My God." His voice cracks, raw and jagged. "You're—" He can't finish. He doesn't have to.

His gaze drops to the swell under her dress, and he breaks.

Shoulders shaking, tears spilling. "Belle…my baby girl. Pregnant. I missed all of this."

Belle stiffens against me. I feel her wanting to draw back, to lock herself down, to keep the armor on.

But her chin trembles. Her eyes glisten.

And then she does the one thing she swore she wouldn't.

She lets him in.

"I practiced hating you," Belle whispers, and her voice is glass fracturing in slow motion. "For months, I rehearsed all the things I'd say when I saw you again. How I'd make you hurt the way you hurt me."

Her breath hitches, tears spilling free. "But you're here, and you're crying, and I can't... I can't hold onto the anger anymore. It's too heavy."

I squeeze her hand, grounding her. Reminding her she doesn't have to carry this alone.

Her father steps closer, slowly, like he's afraid she'll vanish if he moves too fast.

He reaches for her hand but stops short, as if waiting for permission.

Belle hesitates, then gives it. His weathered fingers close around hers, and he sobs into them like a man who's been starved of touch.

"I was a fool," he chokes out. "I thought I was protecting you. I thought handing you over to Moretti would keep you safe. I was wrong. I was so wrong. And I've hated myself every day since, and look at you now. You're… pregnant and I didn't even know. I've missed you every day, baby. Every day without you has been hell."

"So why did you send me away?" Her voice cracks with anger. "Why didn't you call?"

"I never wanted to… trust me. But, once I did, I pulled away and thought it would be easier to adjust to your new situation." His eyes land on her belly again, then at me, and for a brief second, I see rage.

Belle stiffens, like she understands. I squeeze her hand and her shoulders relax.

"I'm happy now…" She gives her father that kindness. "Luca and I, we're in love and excited for what's to come ahead."

Her father's face fills with relief. "Oh, thank God." He lets a tear fall. "That's all I ever wanted for you, but you fought for your own happiness and I'm a guilty man for knowing that I failed as a father."

Belle covers her mouth with her free hand, shaking.

I feel the crack in her, the fracture she's been carrying since the day he betrayed her, widening now into something else—something softer, scarier.

Forgiveness.

Then his eyes lift to me.

The room tightens. My guards hover by the doors, watching.

Bruno lies by the fireplace, head up, ears alert.

Even the fucking cat is silent, tail curled like a question mark.

"Luca," Belle's father says, voice ragged but steady. "I know you have no reason to forgive me for what I did to the woman you love. What I did… I'll never undo it."

I hold his stare, steady as a bullet. "No. You won't. You sold her like property. You let her suffer to cover a debt that never should've touched her." My grip on Belle tightens, not for me, but for her. "I haven't forgotten. I don't forgive it."