22| Master-plan

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ARABELLA's POV

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ARABELLA's POV

I was their master-plan

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" Dad asked as he swiftly jumped on his feet, his voice holding no-bullshit and eyes blaring red in rage.

I'm sure he already deciphered what I was going to say, and the grip on my hand confirmed that even Rhett, sort of figured it out.

"Everything was pre-planned, from my birth to my uniting with the family. It didn't matter if I was born a girl or a boy, but being born a girl was a cherry on top for them since I was the only one born in decades. I was brought into this world to destroy this family. It wasn't an accident that you slept with Angelina, it was also planned. My abuse was inscribed in my fates long before I was even conceived. I was their master plan. I should not have been born." I said, my eyes were completely blank and narrowed as I stared into the distance, my voice as cold and harsh as it could ever be.

I struggled to remove my hand from the grip that was holding it, the reassurance and warmth that it provided made me cringe because I felt like I didn't deserve any of that.

But Rhett's hold didn't deter, somehow, it just grew stronger.

For months I battled an existential crisis,

How could I not, after learning that I was only supposed to be a fucking plan?

"You were always meant to be born, even though I'm a Mafia man and have my doubts on God, my heart believes that he gifted you to me and I never fucking want to hear that hatred in your voice that you used to mention your birth. I couldn't give two flying fucks as to who your mother is, Angelina or Cora, but one thing is certain, that I'm your Father, and nothing in this world can take that privilege away from me. You made me an honourable man, you grounded me and brought light into my dark world. You are not a plan, you are certainly not an accident, You are my daughter, you are a King; a princess who has reigned over all the Kings. And I'm not sure what you're all planning, but if what I think is what you have planned then you, my dear, will soon be a Queen." Dad said, his voice firm filled with nothing but pride and his earlier angry eyes were now brimmed with love and softness.

The moment I felt the grip on my hand loosening, before slightly pushing me forward, I leaped forward rushing into my father's awaiting arms.

An embrace for which I have had yearned for two years, the safety and reliability that came with it.

My father had always told me he loved me, but his words were never empty, he showed it to me.

My father is my strength, my support system who taught me how to love myself. He is a blessing in my dark life and I am eternally grateful.

"I love you, Dad." I said, which was all I could manage to quaver out from the overflowing pool of emotions.

"I love you more, monkey." Dad said softly and kissed my forehead and the moment he used his nickname for me, I let out a long-suppressed sob.

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