I’m The Spoiled Princess With Three Dads Chapter 07

I’m The Spoiled Princess With Three Dads Chapter 07

I woke up to the smell of toast. Rubbing my eyes, I padded downstairs. All three dads were in the kitchen.

Big Dad was frying eggs. Dad Two was cutting fruit. Doc Dad was mixing formula.

“Wow.” I gasped. “Nobody’s working today?”

“Nope.” Jonathan flipped an egg.

“What about—what about the company?”

“The company won’t run away.” Michael didn’t look up.

Doc Dad handed me a bottle and patted my head. “Doc Dad’s all yours today.”

I clutched the bottle, eyes burning again.

I’m five. I just learned you don’t have to be a “good girl” to be loved.

Halfway through breakfast, Jonathan’s phone buzzed.

He glanced at it and flipped it face-down on the table.

“Aunt Margaret,” he said. “Seventh call.”

Michael snorted. “Guilty conscience.”

“Should we answer?” Daniel asked.

Jonathan took a bite of toast. “Let her wait.”

I sipped my formula. “Big Dad, is that aunt a bad person?”

All three looked at me.

Jonathan paused. “Not bad,” he said. “Just greedy.”

“Back when my father was alive, he gave her family a million a year. After he died, the company supported her son for ten years.”

“Her son embezzled two hundred million three years ago. I sent him to prison. He’s out now. He wants his ‘cut’ back.”

I didn’t get all of it. But I understood one thing: they couldn’t take money from Big Dad directly, so they came after me.

Swap me out for Sophie, make Sophie the Hart daughter, then the Hart money would be theirs.

“Oh.” I set down my bottle. “That’s pretty greedy.”

Michael laughed out loud, “Kid, that sounded just like me.”

After breakfast, the doorbell rang. It was Jonathan’s assistant, Paige. Her first words. “Mr. Hart, Mrs. Hart—Margaret—is at the gate.”

Margaret Hart. I yelped and hid behind Doc Dad.

He wrapped his arms around me. “Don’t be scared.”

Jonathan stood and took off his apron. “Let her in.”

Margaret swept in sobbing. “Jonny! I’m so sorry! It was all Sophie’s mother’s doing!” She tried to rush forward. Michael blocked her.

“Mrs. Hart.” He smiled politely. “Please have a seat.”

She dropped onto the couch, wiped her tears, and launched, “Jonny, I was wrong. Please, for your father’s sake—”

“Aunt Margaret.” Jonathan cut her off. “Do you remember my father’s last words?”

Margaret froze.

“He said, ‘Margaret is never to touch Lily.'”

The room went silent.

“I thought he was rambling,” Jonathan said. “Now I understand. He was wide awake.”

Margaret’s face twitched. “Your father—he wouldn’t have—”

“Because of how Lily’s mother died.” Jonathan spoke one word at a time. “The fertility clinic mix-up. The three failed paternity tests. You know what I think? That wasn’t coincidence.”

My fingers twisted into Doc Dad’s shirt.

I’m five. I don’t fully get “fertility clinic” or “paternity tests.” But I understood “her mother didn’t die right.”

I looked up at Doc Dad. His jaw was clamped tight as surgical forceps.