Page 44 of Double Daddies (Dirty Daddies Anthologies #8)
Chapter Twenty-Eight
The next morning
DD Estate, Dreamer’s Cove
Elle
Elle lay in her crib as the first hints of dawn crept through her window, her mind replaying Amanda’s words from the previous day.
“Today might just be the turning point for you, Elle. Either you’ll embrace this lifestyle, or it’s going to chase you away for good.”
Her nanny was right… The game’s day had been the turning point. Elle might not be broken, but she was shattered.
Sleep had evaded her, leaving her to wrestle with the truth she had been avoiding. The games, the choices, and the realization that she had been slowly losing herself had all led to this moment.
Rolling onto her side, she traced the pattern on the pillowcase.
Visions of Drake tucking her with a gentle kiss on her forehead and how Damian would read her stories, making different voices for each character until she giggled despite herself, haunted her every thought.
Those moments had become precious, sacred even.
“And that is the problem.”
Even before the game’s day yesterday, she had been falling. Falling too deep into a world she had never meant to belong to. Each time they called her babygirl chipped away at her defenses until she could barely remember why she had resisted in the first place.
With trembling hands, she pushed back her covers and padded to the walk-in closet.
She stared for long moments at the rows of babydoll dresses that she never could get herself to wear.
Finally, she reached for one. The pink tulle dress hung like a testament to everything she couldn’t be, everything they truly wanted.
The ruffles and bows mocked her as she slipped it on.
The reflection in the mirror staring back at her was a stranger.
A perfect little doll with twin pigtails and ballerina shoes.
Tears welled in her eyes as she practiced her smile, the one she would need to survive the upcoming ordeal.
It had to be convincing. It had to be cruel enough that they wouldn’t try to stop her.
The walk to the dining room felt like a march to her execution. When she pushed open the door, the look on their faces nearly undid her.
“Babygirl! You look gorgeous,” Damian gushed. Their faces were filled with pure joy. Absolute adoration.
Drake’s eyes lit up in a way she had never seen before, while Damian’s smile could have outshone the sun.
For a fraction of a second, she wavered. Would it be so terrible to give in? To be what they wanted? To let herself have this love they so freely offered?
But then she remembered the games. The subtle pushes toward being more girly, more dependent, more... Little. It was over. She couldn’t keep pretending.
“I can’t do this anymore,” she whispered. Her voice threatened to shatter like a fine crystal. “This isn’t me.” She gestured at her outfit, hating how the fabric swished around her legs. “It never will be. I tried, I really tried…”
Damian’s frown carved deep lines in his forehead. “I don’t understand, Elle. Yesterday, during the games, you were at ease and played like a true Little.”
“To please you,” she choked out, hugging herself as if she might physically fall apart. “But that last game... I…” The memory of having to make a choice that would seal her fate… it tore through her heart like a rapier.
“Your choice, Elle.” Drake’s quiet words sliced through her like a blade of ice.
“That doesn’t change the fact that you would’ve given it as the actual task had I been a proper Little.
” Her nails bit into her palms. “I played the part of a tomboy, which we all know doesn’t exist in any other Little household.
Your faces when I walked in just now… that’s the kind of Little you want.
Need. Not... not what I was willing to offer. ”
“And yet we didn’t push you to transition into a girly Little once we agreed to the tomboy version, have we?”
She flinched as Drake’s voice darkened with a slather of pain.
Tears carved silent paths down her cheeks as she caught the knowing look in his eyes. He knew. He saw through her. Through every wall, every pretense, straight to the truth she was trying to deny.
“It doesn’t matter though, does it, Elle?”
“What do you mean, Drake?” Damian glanced between them with confusion written across his features.
“She said it, Damian. She was playing a game.” Drake’s jaw clenched as each word cut through the room. “Stringing us along so we wouldn’t have her prosecuted. Being the perfect little tomboy babygirl for the stupid rich boys.”
“I never... I never thought of you like that. It’s just…” Her voice cracked as her resolve finally splintered.
“It’s just nothing.” Drake’s expression turned stoic as he looked at Damian. “Tell Amanda to take her to George Town and to ensure she gets on a plane back to Texas.”
“Daddy, please not like this. Don’t—” The word slipped out before she could stop it, and she saw it hit him like a physical blow.
“I’m not your Daddy, Miss Fitzgerald. You made that very clear.” His voice turned to cold steel. “Now, get the fuck off our island. You are no longer welcome here.”
The finality in his words shattered what remained of her composure.
Each breath was a desperate gasp as she backed away from the men who had, despite everything, become her world.
Tears blurred her vision as she fled the room.
The sound of her ballerina shoes on the wood floor was a haunting reminder of what she had just destroyed.
Running down the hallway, Drake’s last words kept echoing in her mind.
“I’m not your Daddy.”
It wasn’t just the steel in his voice, but the pain underneath. Pain she had put there. Pain she would carry with her long after she left this island.
A loving and caring life with her two Daddies that could have been hers if she had been brave enough to let it.
DD Estate, Dreamer’s Cove
Drake & Damian
The setting sun painted the sky in strokes of violet and amber, a masterpiece that would normally captivate them. Tonight, however, Drake and Damian sat in silence, with the gentle lap of waves against the shore providing a stark contrast to the turmoil within.
Drake’s fingers traced patterns in the sand. His usual composed demeanor was fractured.
“I failed you, Dam. I should have listened to those initial doubts when Elle first arrived.” His voice carried the rawness of the pain within. “Instead, I allowed hope to blind me, and my desire for her to be the one overrode everything else.”
Damian shifted closer until their shoulders brushed against each other. “Stop. Your heart is bleeding just as much as mine.” He paused, swallowing hard. “Maybe even more.”
Drake ran a hand through his hair, the gesture betraying his usually unfailing control.
“The signs were there from the beginning. She would tense sometimes during aftercare and at times resented taking her bottle.” His voice cracked. “I saw it all, but I wanted so desperately to believe she would grow into it.”
“We both did,” Damian murmured, watching the sun sink lower on the horizon. “Those moments when she let her guard down during bathtime, or when she fell asleep during story time… everything felt so real.”
“They were real.” Drake’s certainty cut through the evening air. “She does love us, Dam.”
“Not enough, it seems.” Damian’s whispered response carried on the breeze, sounding forlorn amidst the sound of breaking waves.
They sat in silence, letting the truth of those words settle around them.
The ocean before them stretched endless and vast, much like the void Elle had left in their lives.
Their role as Daddies wasn’t just a lifestyle choice.
It was intrinsic to who they were, as natural as breathing.
It balanced the pressure of their empire and provided an outlet for the nurturing instincts that countered their ruthless business personas.
“We can’t force it,” Drake finally said in a voice heavy with resignation.
“Being a Little... it has to come from within. Elle recognized that it would eventually destroy her to keep pretending.” He picked up a handful of sand, watching it slip through his fingers.
“In a way, she showed more strength by leaving than she would have by staying.”
Damian nodded slowly. “When she came down this morning in that pink dress... she was saying goodbye in the only way she knew would stick. Making sure we would let her go.”
“By breaking our hearts completely,” Drake added. A bitter smile played on his lips.
The last rays of sunlight dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the beach.
In the growing darkness, both men faced the reality that the love they held for Elle would remain a constant ache, a bittersweet reminder of what could have been.
Their lives would continue, filled with board meetings, business deals, and charity galas, except it would be with an empty space beside them where a spirited tomboy Little should have been.
“We’ll survive this,” Damian said, though his voice wavered slightly.
Drake stood, brushing sand from his pants. “We always do.” He reached down to help Damian up. “This is the one time fighting for what we want won’t work. She made her choice, and for her own sanity, it was the only one she could make. We’ll have to accept she was the one who got away.”
As they walked back toward their mansion, the sound of waves continued their eternal rhythm behind them. Life would go on. They would remain the powerful, successful men they were and continue to find solace in their roles as Daddies.
But they both knew that no other Little would quite fill the Elle-shaped void in their hearts.
That special space was reserved for a feisty, resistant, perfectly imperfect Little who had taught them that sometimes love wasn’t enough to bridge the gap between who someone was and who they were meant to be.