Page 57 of Daddy's Property

Goodbye, Daddy. I’ll miss you.

XOXO,

Cami

Miserably, I sat down on the bed and stared at the piece of paper. I didn’t want to believe any of it was true. I was desperate for it not to be true. I willed the words to change or morph into something else, but they never did. With waning hope, I told myself that maybe she was trying to play a joke to earn a spanking, but that fell flat. It was dumb to even think it. She wouldn’t do something like this for attention. Sure, she’d come to dinner late or sass her way into it, but she’d never try something like this.

In her heart, she was a good girl. She deserved to be treasured and cherished like the prize she was, and I’d done a shit job of showing her that.

The more I glared at the letter, the worse each sentence began to feel. The paper was stained and as I stared at the tiny circles, I began to realize that they were the dried remnants of her tears. The letter was covered with them, and my heart sank even further.

I’d done this. Her sadness was my fault.

I had tried to protect her, but I’d just ended up hurting her in the process. I put the letter down beside me and hung my head in my hands. I couldn’t imagine life without her. I craved her arms circling my neck and the sweetness of her kiss on my lips. Already, I missed the sparkle in her eyes and the way the dimple on her left cheek would peek out any time she smiled. I adored her presence. I needed it.

I picked up the letter and grazed my thumb across the soft parchment. I didn’t want to believe it was real, but every word dove deep into my soul and tore it apart, little by little.

I loved her and thinking about my future without her in it was too much to bear. I couldn’t do it.

I’d made such a big mistake and all I wanted to do was fix it, to take her into my lap and kiss her forehead and tell her everything was going to be alright because I wasn’t ashamed that she was mine. I wanted to tell her I was proud to be her daddy and I was grateful every day that she was my little girl.

I read the letter again. And then again.

I stopped at the line where it said that she’d run out of time. Maybe she was still close, and I could catch her and apologize. I could kiss her and tell her that I was sorry, that she was worth all of that and more, that I would do anything if she would just come back to me.

I was going to find her.

I folded the letter and pushed it into my pocket, pressing it against my heart knowing it was the last thing she’d touched. I rushed out of our bedroom and onto the front lawn. I ran down the driveway and looked back and forth down the street. My heart pounded in my chest, but there was no sign of her. There weren’t that many streetlamps in this area, so it was dark. I couldn’t see much of anything.

I searched the rest of the grounds with a fine-toothed comb. I even checked the treehouse that I knew she hid in sometimes, but to no avail.

I sprinted to the garage and slipped into my black Tesla, stepped on the break, and threw it into drive too quickly, but I didn’t much care about the state of my engine right now. The woman I loved was gone and I needed to find her. I needed to win her back and I would stop at nothing to do it.

I started by casing the long road that led to my property. When I didn’t see any sign of her there, I branched out even further. It didn’t matter what time it was. I didn’t even look at the clock. I was afraid if I took my eyes off the road or the surrounding area that I might miss her. I couldn’t bear the thought of that.

I drove down every road in the town of Hudson that night. The longer I looked, the more desperate I felt. I started to see her in the shadows. But when I stopped the car to get out and look, there was nothing more than a cardboard box or a pile of trash. My eyes were playing tricks on me.

What if she had gotten hurt? What if she was lying in a ditch somewhere with no way to call me or let me know that she needed my help? What if she needed me and I wasn’t there to take care of her?

My panic pressed me onward. I drove until the sun rose and still, I searched. It was lunchtime by the time I finally drove back home, dejected and more miserable than I’d ever felt in my life. I pulled into my driveway, hoping to see her sitting on the front porch. I walked into the house, praying to find her sitting at the kitchen table for breakfast or sleeping in my bed.

My heart sank when she wasn’t.

Exhausted, I returned to my office and broke out my favorite bottle of bourbon. I poured a double and swallowed it down before I poured another and another and eventually passed out on my couch.

I knew I wouldn’t be able to sleep in our bed without her.

* * *

I never stopped searching for her. I called in every favor in the book, looking for her name on bus tickets or taxi cabs, wherever I could think she might have possibly turned to. I visited every woman’s sanctuary and homeless shelter within a hundred miles, hoping I’d see her face when I walked inside. I had her phone searched for clues to where her friends lived, and I visited each one myself.

I didn’t find her anywhere.

Her absence was like agony and with every passing day, I felt it more keenly. I didn’t know where she’d gone or if she was safe.

It was as if she’d disappeared without a trace. More than that though, she didn’t want to be found.

I didn’t really sleep for days. Any rest I found came from sleeping pills or copious amount of bourbon. I couldn’t bring myself to even walk into our bedroom, so I’d been sleeping in one of the guest rooms next to my office or on my couch. Eventually, I stopped being able to sleep at all.

I needed to do something. Anything.

I needed my Cami back.

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