Please Me Daddy (Gracie) novel Chapter 190

Thema oly uproar un the upper floor

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There’s an uproar on the upper floor

Grace

Daughter?

I stared at the woman in front of me, confused, my mind struggling to make sense of her words. She called me her daughter as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Yes, we looked alike, anyone with eyes could see that, but resemblance alone didn’t mean we were related. How could I possibly be her daughter when I grew up in an orphanage. No one ever came for me, and no one ever claimed me as theirs? I had been told my whole life that I was abandoned, that my family didn’t want me, and those words had followed me like a shadow no matter how hard I tried to outrun them. So what she was saying now felt absurd.

And then there was Ryan. He had called her mother. If she was his mother, then that meant she was a Jones, one of the most powerful women in the world. Someone like that couldn’t possibly be my mother. The idea alone felt unreal, like a badly written story.

I shook my head slowly, trying to push the thoughts away.

When she reached for me again, I instinctively pulled my hand back, my body reacting before my mind could catch up, as if her touch might unlock memories I wasn’t ready to face.

I inhaled deeply, forcing myself to calm down, and then I looked straight into her eyes.

“Ma’am,” I said carefully, “you’re mistaken. I’m not your daughter. Maybe you mistook me for someone else.”

The color drained from her face, her expression turning pale and frantic, and the desperation in her eyes made my chest tighten painfully. She tried to grab my hand again, but I stepped back, keeping the distance between us. Her lips trembled as she swallowed, tears already gathering in her eyes.

“I–I’m not mistaken,” she said, her voice breaking. “How could I not recognize my own daughter? How could I not know the child I gave birth to? I’ve seen many people claim to be my daughter, but I never accepted any of them, because I know my child. I know you’re my child.”

She caught my hand before I could move away again, gripping it tightly, as if afraid I would disappear if she let go. “You’re my child,” she cried. “Oh God, you’re my girl. I’ve been searching everywhere for you. I can’t believe I finally found you.”

Tears streamed down her face, and my heart dropped at the sight. Something deep inside me ached, an overwhelming urge to step forward, wrap my arms around her and tell her everything would be okay. But I didn’t.

Giving in to that impulse would only feed her hope, and if she was wrong, then I would be hurting her and myself

even more.