I Married My Best Friends Father

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In my last life, my best friendthe sole heiress to a billionaire's empirestole my husband.

They mocked me, degraded me, and eventually, they pushed me down a flight of stairs, leaving me to bleed out on the cold marble floor.

Given a second chance, I set my sights on a different prize: her wealthy, silver-fox of a father. He had no biological heirs, only his adopted daughter. She thought her father's empire made her invincible, giving her the right to play God with my life.

But she didn't know about my family's secret. I possessed a rare, genetic predisposition for extreme fertility. Soon enough, I'd be slipping into his bed, carrying his quadruplets.

In this life, Im going to make you drop to your knees and call me "Mother."

I feigned a hazy disorientation, stumbling my way toward the master suite on the second floor of the mansion.

Richard Kerwin stood there in a plush robe, silver-rimmed glasses resting on the bridge of his nose. When he saw me burst in, surprise flashed across his face, quickly followed by a cold, guarded mask.

I played the part of the innocent, drunken guest perfectly, bumping into his solid chest and letting out a soft, incoherent murmur.

At this point in my timeline, my body hadn't yet been ravaged by the grueling rounds of IVF hormone injections. I was still in my primeradiant, vibrant, and undeniably alluring.

Silky strands of my hair brushed against his fingers. A delicate, intoxicating perfume drifted into the air between us, sinking right into his veins.

The mans eyes darkened instantly.

Every single detail of this momentthe precise length of my slip dress, the plunge of the neckline, the slit at my thigh, even the breathy cadence of my voicehad been meticulously calculated.

Because I knew that if I missed this window, I might never get close to him again.

I watched his Adams apple bob. The icy restraint in his gaze was rapidly melting, replaced by a raw, primal heat.

Suddenly, his arms came around me, pulling me flush against him. I could feel the searing heat radiating from his skin and the frantic, heavy thud of his heartbeat.

He leaned down, his voice a low, gravelly whisper against my ear. "Do you have any idea what you're doing right now?"

In that split second, the sheer weight of his hunger washed over me.

I smiled inwardly. Checkmate.

The next morning, a piercing shriek shattered the silence.

"Helen! What the hell are you doing?! That is my father!"

Bernice stood paralyzed in the doorway. Behind her, a small crowd of guests from her birthday party the night before lingered in the hall, their faces a canvas of shock and morbid curiosity.

I blinked up at her with wide, innocent eyes, pulling the duvet tightly up to my collarbone, deliberately cutting off whatever explanation Richard was about to offer.

"I... I was just so drunk last night," I stammered, my voice trembling perfectly. "We just laid here and talked under the covers. Nothing happened, I swear."

I knew how the game was played. A ruthless, highly respected titan of Wall Street was never going to let himself become the punchline of a society scandal. Especially not with half of New York's elite standing in his hallway.

Bernices face morphed from sheer shock to a violent, trembling rage. She ground her teeth, her eyes practically vibrating with hatred. "Do you... do you think I'm a fucking idiot?"

She lunged forward, hands raised to strike me.

"Enough!" Richards voice cracked through the room like a whip.

Bernice froze.

"Did you not hear what she just said?" Richard demanded, his tone brokering no argument. "It was a misunderstanding. An accident."

Bernice stared at him, utterly betrayed, her mouth opening and closing as she desperately searched for a rebuttal.

I leaned forward, closing the distance between us until my lips were inches from her ear. "Youd better play along with my story," I whispered, so low only she could hear. "Because if your dad decides he actually does have a taste for me... you're going to have to start calling me Mom."

Her pupils dilated in pure horror. A flicker of profound hesitation crossed her face. Finally, she shot me a look of pure, venomous hatred, then whipped around to face her guests, forcing a sickeningly sweet, plastic smile onto her face.

"Everyone, please, let's not jump to conclusions. They... they really just stayed up talking."

The guests exchanged awkward, knowing glances, muttering polite excuses as they quickly dispersed down the hall.

Before Bernice walked away, she turned and glared at me one last time. It was the exact same look she had given me in my past life, right before she shoved me to my death.

I was born in an isolated, forgotten valley deep in the mountainsa place locals whispered about in folklore. The women from my hometown were famously beautiful, but more importantly, we were known for a fierce, generational vitality. We were built to bear children, effortlessly and abundantly.

Because of that trait, I was nearly trafficked three times as a toddler, eventually ending up in the foster care system, which is where I first met Bernice.

Back in the foster home, while the other kids were sickly and hollow-cheeked, I was thrivingradiant and healthy.

The system wasn't some magical sanctuary. It was a brutal competition for survival, and amid all that ugliness, Bernice was the only one who looked out for me.

There were always families who wanted to adopt me, but somehow, at the very last second, the paperwork would always fall through.

Not long after, Bernice hit the jackpot. She was taken in by Richard Kerwin, the legendary corporate shark.

I had been genuinely happy for her. I truly believed she was my sister, the most important person in my life.

I believed it so deeply that in my previous life, when Bernice stood in my living room, caressing her swelling belly and telling me she was carrying my husbands baby, my brain simply couldn't process it.

They stood there together, laughing at me. They called me a barren, useless husk.

And when I finally snapped, threatening to take my husband for every penny he had in the divorce, they dragged me to the staircase.

When I opened my eyes again, I was back. Back before the blood, before the betrayal.

Realizing that the two people you trusted most in the world were the architects of your destruction... it's a suffocating, paralyzing kind of agony. An agony so deep that in my last life, I died before I could even scream the truth at them:

The problem wasn't me! The one who was medically sterile was my husband!

My bloodline practically guaranteed fertility. I had spent years burying the truth, silently taking the blame and enduring endless pity just to protect his fragile male ego.

Well, no more.

Bernice thought she could play with human lives just because she had a billionaire daddy backing her up. She loved my useless, sterile husband so much? Fine. She could keep the trash.

I, on the other hand, thought her father was quite the catch.

Wealthy, devastatingly handsome, and completely alone, save for one adopted daughter.

Lets see how much he remembers you, Bernice, once I give him a biological child of his own blood.

In this life, you will drop to your knees and call me Mother.

By the time Richard and I were dressed and making our way downstairs, Bernice was already sitting stiffly on the living room sofa, radiating fury.

"Dad... Helen... Now that the guests are gone, do you two have absolutely no sense of shame?"

Shame? Hilarious. I doubt the word crossed her mind when she was climbing into my husband's bed in our past life.

Swallowing the urge to laugh in her face, I buried my face in my hands and let out a soft, pathetic sob.

"I don't even know what happened," I cried, my voice thick with tears. "I just drank that one cocktail you handed me last night, Bernice, and then everything went blurry..."

Bernices righteous anger immediately dissolved into panic.

"What?! Are you trying to say I drugged you?!"

I looked up at her, my eyes swimming with wounded vulnerability.

"No, of course not! You're my best friend, I would never suspect you. But... those people you hang out with... they don't seem like good people. What if one of them slipped something into my glass behind your back?"

Bernice was turning purple. The elite circles of New York had always quietly shunned her for being an adopted outsider. Getting those socialites to attend her birthday had been a monumental task.

"You bitch," she hissed. "If you want to sleep with my dad, just say it! Stop making up lies!"

"That's enough," Richard interrupted, his voice dropping an octave.

He looked at Bernice. "She was clearly not in her right mind last night."

He rubbed his temples. "I thought I raised you better than this. I know what kind of person you are, but I also know Ive spoiled you rotten. Youve been running around with a degenerate crowd. Your black card is cut off. You're grounded. You will stay in this house and think about your actions."

"Dad!"

"My decision is final."

Bernice let out a scream of frustration and stormed out of the room.

The heavy oak doors clicked shut, leaving just Richard and me in the cavernous, quiet room.

I took a shaky breath, speaking before he could.

"Richard... Mr. Kerwin. Last night was a mistake. I only came here to celebrate Bernice's birthday. I never imagined things would spiral out of control like this."

I let a small, choked gasp escape my lips.

"But I need you to forget this ever happened."

The request caught him completely off guard.

He was a billionaire; he was no stranger to women trying to manipulate their way into his bed. But he remembered last night. He remembered that I really was delirious, that I had even tried to push him away a few times.

And then he remembered that his own daughters party guests were likely the cause of it.

A rare flicker of guilt crossed his sharp features. His jaw tightened.

"Whatever compensation you want," he said quietly. "Name it. It's yours."

I shook my head, offering him a sad, fragile smile.

"You're a victim in this too." I paused, looking down at my hands. "The truth is... I'm a married woman. But I don't think I can live with this guilt. I've betrayed my husband, and I need to ask him for a divorce."

I looked back up, letting a single tear slip down my cheek. "But we built our company together. If he finds out why I'm leaving him, he'll destroy everything I've worked for. My life's work will be gone."

Richard stared at me, his expression softening into something entirely new. He reached out, his large, warm hand tentatively resting on my shoulder.

"I understand," he said softly. "Don't worry about the company. What belongs to you will stay yours."

I widened my eyes, looking up at him with pure, unadulterated admiration.

"Thank you, Richard. You really are a good man."

I could see the gears turning in his head. To him, I was entirely different from the predatory socialites he was used to. He was the one who had taken advantage of me in my compromised state, yet here I was, thanking him.

He walked me to the front doors and instructed his private driver to take me home. As I stepped out into the crisp morning air, I paused, pretending to remember something.

I turned back, 'accidentally' bumping softly against his chest, just as I had the night before.

Instinctively, his arm came around my waist to steady me.

I stepped back quickly, putting a polite distance between us, and carefully handed him my business card.

"Mr. Kerwin," I said, my voice steady now. "I hope we can start over and reintroduce ourselves properly. I have a feeling we'll be seeing each other in the boardroom."

As the town car pulled away from the estate, I could feel the weight of his lingering stare on the back of my neck. I didn't look back.

Since Richard had promised to ensure my divorce went smoothly, I didn't have to waste a single ounce of energy worrying about asset division.

I made one phone call and had a team of movers pack up every single thing I owned from the townhouse.

I also left a very clear warning for my husbandno, my ex-husband.

I told him I already had an ironclad file of evidence proving his affair with Bernice, and if he ever showed his face near me again, Id ruin him.

In my past life, I had convinced myself that his infidelity was my faulta byproduct of my supposed inability to give him a child after years of marriage.

But when I woke up in this timeline and hired an investigator, the truth made me sick to my stomach. He and Bernice had been sleeping together since the very beginning.

They had played me for a fool for years.

You both wanted to play dirty? Fine. Welcome to the mud.

Sitting in the quiet of my new apartment, I rested a hand over my flat stomach.

I could already feel it. One shot was all it took. A new life was already taking root inside me, waiting for the perfect moment to bloom.

For the next month, despite having my card, Richard didn't reach out.

I wasn't worried.

With Bernice hovering around, she was doing everything in her power to keep her father away from me. But I was supremely confident that Richard couldn't just erase me from his mind.

The memory of that night was hammered into his brain like a silver nail, impossible to ignore.

Meanwhile, I threw myself into my work. I was the CEO of my firm, and by pure, beautiful coincidence, our upcoming project involved a direct partnership with Kerwin Enterprises. Up until now, all our correspondence had been digital.

By the time the in-person summit rolled around, my baby would be exactly six weeks along.

I ruthlessly polished the project proposals, settling for nothing less than absolute perfection.

Leaning back in my ergonomic office chair, I let out a long exhale, quietly thanking the universe for the timing of this rebirth. I was at the absolute peak of my lifeyoung, sharp, and radiant. I hadn't been bullied into quitting my career to focus on IVF. I hadn't spent my days acting as a live-in maid for my horrid mother-in-law. I wasn't bloated, exhausted, and practically gray from the stress of it all.

The day of the negotiation, I walked into the Kerwin boardroom wearing a tailored, powder-blue power suit, a thick stack of flawless dossiers in my arms.

Richard was seated at the head of the long glass table. His eyes were sharp and unyielding, but the second he saw me, a micro-expression of shock cracked his facade.

I treated him like a complete stranger. I offered a polite, professional smile as I slid the documents across the table toward him.

As he reached for the file, his fingertips brushed against mine. I felt the sudden, electric jolt of his body heat, and my heart gave a calculated little flutter. Our eyes locked, and the air in the boardroom suddenly felt incredibly thick.

I led the presentation. Derek, my ex-husband, was technically still a partner on paper, but he sat beside me looking like a deer in headlights, muttering useless filler words while I dominated the room. It only served to make my brilliance shine brighter.

I yielded no ground during the negotiations. After an hour of intense, exhilarating back-and-forth, we reached a highly lucrative agreement.

The room erupted into polite applause and cheerful corporate pleasantries.

As I was packing up my briefcase, preparing to escort them out, Bernice suddenly appeared from the hallway. She grabbed my arm, dragging me into a quiet alcove, her eyes blazing.

"Don't think I didn't see you making eyes at my dad in there," she hissed. "Are you still delusional enough to think you're going to be my stepmother?"

I smoothed down the lapel of my jacket, my expression perfectly serene. "Whatever do you mean? I was just doing my job. Honestly, instead of obsessing over my love life, you should worry about your own. I've already divorced Derek... so why hasn't he put a ring on your finger yet?"

Her face drained of color. She stammered, "How... how did you know? I meanwhat kind of crazy nonsense are you talking about?"

"You were right about one thing, though," I said, letting a slow, venomous smile spread across my face.

"I really, really want to hear you call me Mom."

I paused, leaning in close. "I'm pregnant," I mouthed the next words so only she could read my lips: With your dad's baby.

Bernices face contorted in sheer, unadulterated madness.

She lost her mind. Screaming a string of obscenities, she lunged at me, her manicured hands clawing wildly.

I let her push me. I hit the hardwood floor hard, a sharp jolt of pain radiating up my spine.

The hallway descended into chaos. Executives shouted. Richard pushed through the crowd, his face pale with panic, and violently yanked Bernice off of me.

"What the hell is going on here?!" Richard roared.

I looked up at him, letting the tears spill over my lashes in a torrential flood. "I don't know!" I sobbed, clutching my stomach. "I thought Bernice just wanted to catch up, and then she just attacked me!"

Bernice pointed a shaking finger at me, hyperventilating. "She's lying! My dad would neverhe only wants me! He's not having any more kids! Tell them you're lying about being pregnant!"

Before she could finish the sentence, Richards hand connected with Bernices cheek. The sharp crack of the slap echoed through the dead-silent hallway.

Bernice stumbled back, holding her face in disbelief. "You... you hit me? For her?"

Richards jaw was clenched so tight I thought it might shatter. "Enough! Not another word. The truth is, Helen and I... we've been seeing each other since her divorce."

Suddenly, one of my assistants gasped, pointing at the floor. "Oh my god, she's bleeding!"

I looked down. A small pool of crimson was seeping into the fabric of my skirt.