Off Limits Daddy

"""Oh, let's see what he has planned today." She smirked as a maid approached her with a black blindfold.

The woman gently wrapped the blindfold over her eyes and led her into a dark room.

Footsteps faded into silence. And a door clicked shut behind them.

When the blindfold came off, Zaya blinked against the dim light and lifted her chin-ready for whatever came next.

A small smile formed on her lips. Fred had been her everything since the accident. The amnesia had stolen pieces of her life, but he'd stayed. Her boyfriend -A hotshot medical school graduate every girl drooled over.

Though... romance wasn't exactly his thing.

She still remembered their first Valentine's Day. He'd shown up in a monkey costume. No flowers. No card. Just bananas and a confused "I thought it'd be funny."

She shook her head, chuckling softly. Please don't let this surprise be bananas again.

The light flicked on, revealing nothing but blank white walls with projectors.

"Saw that coming," she muttered with a grin.

The projector flickered to life. Zaya's eyes flew open. Her phone slipped from her hand , clattering to the floor.

There she was -on screen. Tangled with a man-both of them naked. Her voice filled the room, breathy, loud and shameless as she moaned the unknown man's name.

She didn't even know who he was.

"Surprise," Fred said, clapping as he stepped out from behind in a black tux that somehow made him look even better.

"Thought I'd surprise your *ss today! Do you like it?" he added, towering over her with a grin.

Zaya just stood there, lips parted, eyes flicking from the screen to him.

"What the hell is this?" she breathed, her voice barely catching up to the chaos in her head.

"Your surprise, of course. Thought you'd like it," Fred said, tilting his head with a smug grin.

Zaya blinked, her chest rising and falling. "Fred, what is this? That's not me-I don't even know that guy!"

He let out a low laugh, cold and sharp. "Really? You don't know the guy you were screaming for?"

Her mouth opened, but nothing came out.

"You fooled me for five years,five years Zaya" he said, stepping closer. "Turns out, you're just another wh*r* who belongs to the streets."

Zaya's breath caught in her throat. "Fred, stop. I swear-"

"Save it," he cut her off, eyes dark. "You've already performed enough."

"How did we go from you texting me a romantic message to come over for a surprise... to this?" Zaya cried, tears streaking down her cheeks.

"Save it, you sl*t!" Fred snapped. "I'm done with you. Everything we shared-over. I can't marry a sl*t." He yanked a ring box from his pocket and hurled it across the floor. "That thing cost me a million dollars."

Zaya dropped to her knees, grabbing it with trembling hands. "Fred... don't do this. We're weeks from our wedding. I don't even know him. Can't you just - trust me?"

"Trust you?" he scoffed, wiping the spot on his arm where she'd touched him. "Get out of my way, wh*r*. I'm done."**

**"Fred!" she screamed, her heels wobbling as she stumbled after him. "Don't do this!"

But he didn't stop.

The last thing she saw was his cold, emotionless smile-as if she'd never meant a thing.

Then, without warning, strong hands seized her, locking around her waist and halting her in place.

**The man didn't speak.

A flash of metal-then pain exploded in Zaya's side as a golf club slammed into her ribs. She cried out, collapsing onto the floor.

Before she could breathe, he grabbed her like a rag doll and hurled her out the door.

She hit the pavement hard, vision blurring and blood pooling warm under her cheek.

Fred had paid him well-to "deal with the sl*t." And he had.*

Zaya managed to push herself up, the sting of the breakup deeper than any bruise the goon Fred had sent could've caused.

Her Fred? Five years of dedication, and this is how it ended? She had stuck by him through thick and thin-nights spent working long shifts to cover bills while he focused on medical school. And just when he finished, just as they were about to marry next week, he dropped her without a second thought.

Fred had been her everything. He was the one who had started fresh with her after her accident, the one who had been there when she couldn't remember anything-or anyone.

The hospital where she was treated was the same place he worked as a student doctor, and that's where it all began. She had fallen first, asking him out on a date, but he had turned her down, saying she wasn't his type.

Had he meant it? Had he really seen her that way, as someone not his type? Or had he used her all along, taking advantage of her vulnerability for all those years?

The thought gnawed at her.

"No... I can't just let him go," she whispered to herself, pulling her phone from her pocket. Her fingers trembled slightly as she dialed his number, praying he'd pick up.

The phone rang a few times, and just when she thought he wouldn't, his voice came through, cold and distant.

"What do you want, Zaya?" Fred's voice was sharp, like he'd been expecting this call.

"I need to talk to you... Fred, please," she begged, her voice breaking on the last word.

There was a long pause before he finally spoke, his words hit like a punch to her chest.

"Zaya, don't ever call me again. I'm done. I've moved on."

Her heart sank as the line went dead, the silence swallowed her whole. Before she could process his words, her phone buzzed with a message.

She opened it, her hands shaking. It was from Fred. He had sent a picture of a girl a fine chic actually with a caption -

"I'm with someone new. It's over. You should move on too."

Zaya stared at the screen, her breath catching in her throat.

A little hand tapped her back gently. Zaya turned around, startled.

"You?" Zaya said, staring at the little boy in front of her. Her phone nearly slipped from her hand.

He nodded, his eyes wide and soft. "You promised you wouldn't leave me," he whispered, then threw his tiny arms around her waist.

Zaya bent down slowly, arms wrapping around him in return. "Oh, come here," she murmured, holding him tight.

Just three hours earlier before Fred's unexpected surprise, she had found him crying by the corner of a busy street. His face was streaked with tears.

He'd been alone, scared, wandering around calling for his father who never showed up.

A group of teenage boys had started circling him-laughing, teasing, threatening to snatch the small backpack he clung to like his life depended on it.

Zaya didn't think twice. She'd rushed in, pulled him away, and scared the boys off with words she didn't even remember now. He hadn't let go of her hand after that.

"I'm Zaya," she had told him while gently wiping his cheeks with a tissue from her purse. "We'll find your dad, okay?"

She had dropped him off at a security post near the bus station, leaving him in the care of an older woman who promised to call the local police.

But now... here he was, standing right in front of her again. How did he even find her?

She pulled back slightly, scanning his small face. "How did you find me, baby?"

"I just walked. I knew you'd be here," he said, with the kind of faith only a child could carry.

Zaya knelt down again, gently brushing the boy's curls off his forehead. "What's your name, sweetheart?"

He sniffled once and wiped his nose with the back of his hand. "Tristan," he said. "I'm five."

She gave him a soft smile. "Where are you from, Tristan? How did you get lost?"

He looked down at his little shoes, his voice barely a whisper. "My daddy's always busy... He was on the phone again. I just wanted to play." He peeked up at her. "So I ran away from my bodyguard. I didn't mean to. I just wanted to see the water fountain."

Zaya's heart clenched. A rich kid. She could already picture it-his dad in a suit, walking ahead without looking back, while the bodyguard scrambled behind with no clue the boy had disappeared.

She tucked a hand under his chin gently. "Tristan... who's your dad?"

He blinked, then pointed to himself with a little grin. "My dad? He's Killian Wolfe."

Zaya blinked hard. "Killian Wolfe?"

The name rang like thunder in her head. She knew the name rang bells. She grabbed her phone quickly, typing the name in her search engine. The screen lit up instantly.

Tall and powerful. In every article, every photo-he looked like a man who didn't take 'no' for an answer. Jet-black hair, sharp jawline, expensive suits, and eyes that looked like they could slice through steel.

*"His toned abs, inked with tattoos from luxury destinations around the world, told stories of money, freedom, and a life lived on his own terms."*

But something didn't make sense.

She scrolled and scrolled.

He wasn't married. Not a single article mentioned a wife. No partner. Nothing about a child either.

Her thumb paused mid-scroll as she stared at one particular photo-Killian stepping out of a luxury car, sunglasses on.

Then she looked at Tristan again. The same eyes. The same jaw.

Her voice dropped to a whisper. "How do you have a kid, Killian Wolfe?"

She smiled and gently ran her fingers through his curls. "Come on, let's get you to safety, yeah? It's already midnight."

Tristan nodded and held her hand tightly, his little fingers curling around hers like he was afraid she'd vanish again.

They started walking slowly, Zaya glancing around the quiet, dim street for any sign of a patrol or a helpful stranger, but the city was asleep.

After a moment, she looked down at him. "Tristan... where's your mom?"

He was quiet. His grip on her hand tightened a bit.

Zaya stopped walking and crouched beside him. "It's okay. You can tell me."

Tristan looked up at her, his eyes suddenly a little glassy. "Daddy says she's in the stars."

Zaya blinked. "The stars?"

He nodded. "He told me she was the most beautiful woman in the whole wide world. But her heart was too soft... so she couldn't stay.

He said she loved me so much, but she had to go away... up, up, up into the sky. And when I miss her, I should look up and wave."

Zaya's heart twisted as she watched him point his tiny finger toward the sky.

"I always wave," Tristan added quietly. "Even when no one sees. Because she's watching."

Zaya swallowed hard, blinking fast. Her voice came out rougher than she wanted. "That's a really beautiful thing, Tristan."

He looked up at her with wide, trusting eyes. "Daddy said when I'm brave, like today, she smiles brighter in the stars."

She pulled him into a soft hug, whispering, "You're the bravest little boy I've ever met."

They got to Zaya's small apartment, the quiet sound of the fridge was the only sound as she gently dropped Tristan on the old but clean couch.

"Make yourself comfy, little guy," she said with a small smile, brushing the hair from his eyes.

He looked around, wide-eyed. "It's cozy here."

Zaya chuckled. "Glad you think so."

She headed to the bedroom and quickly changed into something casual-a loose t-shirt and shorts. Her feet were sore, her heart still aching from earlier.

She walked back out and knelt beside him. "Tomorrow, we'll take you to your dad, okay? But for now... just rest a little."

"Okay," he whispered with a smile, already curling up on the couch like it was his own bed.

She covered him with a soft throw blanket and brushed a kiss on his forehead.

But just as she turned to switch off the lights, a loud, urgent knock rattled the door.

"I'll get the door," Zaya whispered, tightening the belt on her robe as she padded barefoot across the small living room.

She opened the door-and nearly choked on her breath.

"Oh... holy shamoly," she muttered under it, eyes widening.

There he stood.

Tall, striking, too freaking handsome for this hour of the night. Jet-black hair slightly tousled, a tuxedo shirt unbuttoned just enough to show a sliver of toned chest and an expensive-looking tattoo curling beneath his collarbone.

He looked like he walked straight out of one of those rich-men-you'll-never-meet-in-real-life magazine covers. And Zaya had just been staring at his pictures a few hours ago.

Now he was standing in front of her. In the flesh.

Before she could say a word, his voice hit her like a whip.

"Where the hell is my kid ?"

"I-" Her mouth opened, but nothing came out.

"You kidnapped him?" he said sharply, stepping inside like he owned the place.

Zaya stumbled back a step, blinking.

"No! No, I-I didn't! He was lost, and I-I found him and-he asked me not to leave him-"

"I don't care what story he gave you." His eyes narrowed, sharp as glass. "You took him. That's kidnapping."

Her chest tightened. "Wait, please-he was alone. I couldn't just leave him there! He didn't know where his dad was, and-"

"That's what you typical gold diggers do," Killian snapped, voice laced with venom. "Taking billionaire kids for a little fortune."

Zaya blinked, stunned. Her chest tightened, heat rushing to her face.

"Excuse me?" she said, stepping forward. "I literally saved your son. You were too careless to keep an eye on him!"

His jaw clenched. "Don't you dare," he growled. "You have no idea who you're talking to."

"No, I don't," she fired back. "But I know a scared little boy who couldn't find his dad because his so-called rich father was too busy to notice he was gone!"

He took one hard step forward, his presence almost swallowing her small apartment. "Get me my son," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "I need to freaking get out of this slum."

"Fine," she said, crossing her arms. "But you owe him more than just picking him up and storming out like this."

Zaya rushed into the room, her heart still pounding from the storm at the door.

"Tristan," she whispered, gently shaking him awake. "Your dad's here. Let's get you out of here, okay?"

His eyes fluttered open and lit up instantly. "Yayyy!" he squealed, jumping off the couch barefoot and running toward the front door with the kind of excitement only a five-year-old could have.

Zaya followed behind slowly, still stunned. How did he even find us?

As soon as the little boy saw Killian, he squealed louder, "Daddy!" and leapt into his arms.

Killian dropped to one knee, catching him with ease, wrapping him in a firm hug. His expression, which had been stone-cold minutes ago, softened-just slightly-as he pressed his lips to Tristan's hair.

Zaya stood by the doorway, arms folded. She couldn't help the small smile that tugged at her lips as she watched the tender moment.

But then-

"I'm not leaving without her," Tristan announced, pointing back at Zaya with stubborn determination.

Killian stood, holding him. His face hardened again. "Come on, son. It's late. She's not coming with us."

"But why?"

Killian didn't answer right away. He just stared at Zaya like she was the problem and muttered, "She's evil. She only wants money from you."

Zaya rolled her eyes so hard they nearly stuck. "Right. Because I asked your son to drop from the sky at midnight with zero child support and a tiny backpack."

Tristan twisted in his father's arms. "No, Daddy! She saved me. Twice. She's not evil."

Killian looked caught off guard for a second.

Then Tristan's voice dropped. "And Daddy... remember? Yesterday was my birthday... and you haven't got me a present yet."

Killian exhaled. "Yes, son. I promised you a trip to Disneyland. That's what the jet is for. Can we please get going?"

"I don't want that anymore." Tristan folded his arms now, mimicking his dad's scowl.

Killian's brows shot up. "You don't... what?"

"I want a mommy instead."

Zaya's mouth dropped slightly.

Killian massaged his forehead like this whole conversation was giving him a migraine. "Tristan..."

"Daddy, please. Can she be my mommy ?"

Killian blinked. The billionaire, who walked into her apartment like he owned the world, now stood frozen... floored by the one human he couldn't say no to.

Killian had been dreading this exact moment for years.

Not the knock at some random woman's door.

Not the confrontation.

But the question-"Can she be my mommy?"

That word. Mommy. It hit him in places no business deal ever could. It reminded him of what he'd lost...

Killian Wolfe was known in every circle-corporate, luxury, fashion, real estate-you name it. Ruthless. Untouchable and off limits. Women chased him. Men envied him.

His charm was sharp, cold, and clean like a diamond blade. He didn't do emotions. Didn't do attachments. And definitely didn't do relationships.

The press called him irresistible.

But he called himself unavailable.

And Tristan? Tristan was the only exception. His little boy was his only soft spot. A secret he guarded like a vault. Very few knew he had a child.

The media had no clue. There were no baby pictures, no baby mama drama, no tabloids with 'Killian Wolfe Spotted With Son' headlines. Because Killian didn't allow it.

Tristan's location was always tracked-custom GPS bracelet, emergency chip, and a silent bodyguard never too far. He wasn't careless. He couldn't afford to be.

But life wasn't perfect. And earlier that day, he made a mistake.

He'd picked Tristan up from school himself, something he rarely did. Just them. No team. No staff.

Just father and son for once. They had stopped by a café because Tristan wanted pancakes. Killian stepped out to take a call-two minutes, tops-and came back to an empty seat and a missing boy.

His chest still tightened just remembering it.

So when his security finally pinged his son's location and it led him to this narrow, dimly-lit building in a street his Rolls-Royce never belonged... he was already on edge.

And now here stood this woman-Zaya-folding her arms like she hadn't just flipped his world upside down.

His son wanted her.

Called her mommy.

And Killian Wolfe... had no idea how to react.