Marriage with my daughter's father: Darling please be gentle

Winter dashed down the corridor, her vision blurred by tears, her breath ragged as she fought to contain the storm raging inside her. The pain in her chest was unbearable, like a dagger twisting deeper with every step. She didn't stop until she reached the hidden corner of the twentieth level—a place of solitude she had found by accident months ago.

She wasn't supposed to be here, yet here she was. She shouldn't have believed in something she wasn't familiar with, but she did because her heart couldn't rest.

"Why, Eric? Why did you do this?"

Her voice cracked as she clutched her chest, the image of Eric tangled with another woman flashing in her mind like a cruel nightmare. But this was no nightmare. It was her reality.

She had walked in on them in the hotel room. Eric—her Eric—was with another woman, their bodies entwined, completely lost in each other. They hadn't even noticed her standing there, frozen, heart shattering into a million pieces.

Winter's trust had crumbled in an instant.

Eric had sworn his love for her, had whispered promises of forever into her ears. Yet here he was, betraying her in the most painful way imaginable.

But weren't men always like this?

She had grown up watching her father cheat on her mother, watching him bring another woman into their home before her mother's body had even gone cold. Her father had never loved her mother—he had only married her for wealth and status. And when she was gone, he had replaced her without a second thought.

Winter had always despised men like that. But despite everything, despite her instincts screaming at her to never trust, she had let herself believe in Eric. She had let him in, only to be proven a fool.

A choked sob escaped her lips. She should have listened to her friend, should have believed the warnings. But Eric had been so good at weaving his lies, so skilled at making her doubt her own eyes and ears, that she had ended up pushing away the only person who had tried to protect her.

Now she was alone.

She wiped away her tears with trembling fingers, inhaling sharply as she tried to compose herself. The pain in her chest felt unbearable, but she refused to let it consume her.

With shaky legs, she forced herself toward the elevator, pressing the button with more force than necessary.

She needed to get out of here.

The moment the elevator doors slid open, she stepped inside, avoiding her own reflection in the mirrored walls. By the time she reached the parking area, her legs were already moving on instinct, her heart set on one thing—escape.

As she approached her bike, a voice called out to her.

"Excuse me, are you here for a delivery?"

Winter turned, her lips trembling as she forced a smile. She hated how she looked right now—red-rimmed eyes, tear-streaked cheeks, standing in a high-end hotel in her work uniform that read Fast Food Stop.

She wasn't supposed to be here.

"Are you Mr. Wilson?" she asked, her voice hoarse.

The man shook his head. "No."

"Then I'm sorry, but I don't have your parcel," she said politely before mounting her bike and speeding away.

The wind whipped against her face as she rode through the streets, her mind a chaotic mess.

She had been making amends ever since her father threw her out.

David Greyson had never truly cared for her, not since the day her mother died. She reminded him too much of his late wife—of the woman he had only married for financial gain. Things had only gotten worse when his new wife took over the household.

Winter had been nothing more than an inconvenience, a stain on their perfect little family.

Accused of things she never did.

Treated like an outcast.

Until she was finally given an ultimatum—fall in line or leave.

She had chosen the latter.

But deep down, she had still held onto the hope that her grandfather would return. That when he did, things would go back to the way they were supposed to be.

But it had been nine months. And there was no sign of him.

"Get a grip, Winter," she mumbled, biting her lip hard enough to hurt as fresh tears welled in her eyes.

Her hands tightened around the throttle.

She needed to drown this pain.

She needed a drink.

The bar was dimly lit, filled with the hum of conversation and the steady rhythm of music. Winter stormed inside, ignoring the curious glances from patrons as she approached the counter.

Mr. Brooke, the bartender, glanced at her with concern.

"Winter—"

"REPEAT!"

She slammed the empty glass onto the counter, her voice raw, desperate.

The waitress beside him raised an eyebrow, exchanging a look with Brooke.

"She's really down bad, huh?"

Brooke sighed, crossing his arms. "Yeah."

Winter was already half-conscious, her body swaying slightly, but she wasn't done.

"That's enough," Brooke said, frowning.

Winter lifted her head, her bleary eyes meeting his.

"Just one more," she mumbled, slurring.

Brooke groaned, shaking his head in defeat.

She was like a daughter to him. He had given her a job when she had nowhere to go, had watched over her like family. And now, seeing her like this, he felt utterly helpless.

Still, he turned to pour her another drink.

But before he could set it in front of her, Winter had already stumbled away, her feet dragging toward the dance floor.

The music pulsed through her, vibrating in her bones.

She didn't think. She just let go.

Dancing. Moving. Losing herself in the rhythm.

Forgetting Eric.

Forgetting everything.

She wanted to punish him—to hurt him the way he had hurt her.

But what would be the difference between them then?

A voice purred near her ear.

"Are you looking for someone, Angel?"

Winter turned, her dazed gaze meeting deep emerald green eyes. The man before her was tall, broad-shouldered, with a presence that felt both dangerous and intoxicating.

She couldn't think.

So she didn't.

She reached for him, pulling him down into a kiss.

His lips were warm, firm, and when he kissed her back, it wasn't gentle. It was consuming, possessive, making her breath hitch.

A tear slid down her cheek, but she didn't stop.

For the first time in hours, she wasn't thinking about Eric.

This stranger—this man whose name she didn't even know—was replacing every painful memory with something new. Something that didn't hurt.

She pulled away, staring into those captivating green eyes, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Take me somewhere."

His gaze darkened.

He grabbed her wrist.

And just like that, she let herself be led away.

The car ride was a blur of flashing city lights and unspoken tension.

By the time they reached the hotel, Winter was already on him the moment the door closed.

His hands were on her waist, his lips claiming hers with an urgency that made her heart pound.

She didn't stop.

Didn't hesitate.

That night, she let herself go completely.

And for the first time in a long time…

She didn't regret it.

She had no idea who this man was.

But fate had already begun weaving their lives together. And there was no turning back.