**Dragon's POV**
"Really, Daddy? Are you going to read me bedtime stories?"
I looked at my daughter, her face lighting up with excitement, and smiled. "Of course, Asher. I'll read you all the stories you want."
"Really?" Her eyes widened in awe as she gently touched my cheek. She was so curious, and I welcomed it. Asher was my world, and I had sworn to cherish and protect her with everything I had.
"Don't you believe what Daddy can do? If I say I will, then I will," I said, pretending to frown.
"I... I do, Daddy. I'm just being considerate," she replied earnestly. I scooped her up in my arms. "Now say goodnight to your mummy, Asher," I urged. She turned her head and whispered, "Goodnight, Mummy," to an irritated Nora, who was trying to hide her annoyance. I shot Nora a quick glare as I turned toward Asher's room. I hadn't reacted to Nora's mood because of Asher's sensitive nature.
I gently pushed open the door to her room and laid her down on the bed, placing a soft pillow under her head. I climbed in beside her, resting on my side with my back mostly straight. I placed a pillow between her knees to ease any pressure and filled the other gaps with more pillows. Asher gazed into my eyes, her smile growing wider by the second. I pulled the covers up and kissed her lightly on the forehead.
"Daddy..." she murmured, reaching for a book.
"Yeah?" I replied, tucking her hair behind her ear and looking deeply into her eyes.
She reminded me so much of her mother.
Uncertainty flickered in her gaze as she struggled to find the right words. Asher was diagnosed with autism when she was barely two. Aside from Emma, Ashley, and me, she often ignored everyone else.
"What does Mum look like? Does she act like Mummy Nora? Does she love me?" she asked, her voice filled with innocent curiosity. An eerie silence gripped my throat, and I fought to control my emotions.
Overwhelmed, I wrapped my arms around her and kissed her hair.
How could I tell Asher that I was the reason her mother was gone? That I had driven her to her death and that she had hated me for it? How could I explain that I had hurt her mother and that she was the result of that pain? Would she believe me? Would she hate me? A storm of thoughts swirled in my mind as I struggled to hold back my tears.
The mere thought of it made me tremble.
Two years ago, for Asher's sake and in memory of her mother, my beloved Araya, I had distanced myself from the mafia life, hidden her away from danger, and made her aunt Ashley believe I was adopting Asher out of love.
Her eyes sparkled as she stretched her hands toward me. "Read, Daddy, and forget that I asked."
"She was the best person in the world, with a heart of gold," I said, planting kisses in her hair. "Your mother was beautiful, just like you, and as considerate as you are."
Her eyes lit up with excitement. She leaned in and kissed me on the cheek, then asked, "She kisses you like this, right? Just like you do to me?"
I swallowed hard, fighting back tears. Asher was becoming more curious about her mother every day. Although she had never met her, she was eager to learn.
"I hate you, Dragon. I'd rather die than marry you." Those words echoed in my mind.
"I... I..." I trailed off, unsure of how to respond.
"Forget about it, Daddy. I know Mummy loves you so much. She is my everything, and I love her. Plus, she died because of an accident, right?" she said, bursting with confidence. I quickly kissed her cheeks, grateful for her understanding.
"Can you get me a new perfume teacher, Daddy?" she asked, pausing as if trying to explain, then grinning widely.
"Another perfumer?" I asked, my mouth agape in disbelief. Asher already had more than three perfumers teaching her, and her dresser was filled with different perfumes, all from the same person—Peony Acosta.
"Yeah, Daddy! I want a new perfume teacher who can teach me how to make lovely perfumes. I want to be a perfumer, Dada—a perfumer just like Peony Acosta. Her perfume is filled with love, and the scent lingers for a long time. I want a teacher as good as Peony Acosta, not some perfumers who scold me for the slightest mistakes."
I stared at her in amazement. Asher had never shown interest in anything other than perfume since she was a toddler. Always reserved and sensitive, now she was asking for another teacher.
Her perfumes were almost as good as her idol Peony Acosta's, and her creativity was remarkable.
Her teacher had once encouraged her to join her classmates in the school talent show, but she had adamantly refused, saying she wasn't sure what she wanted to be. Her sudden interest left me stunned.
"And," she added quickly, "I want my new perfumer to be the famous Peony Acosta."
"What?!" I gasped, staring at her in disbelief. Where was I going to find Peony Acosta, a renowned perfumer, for my daughter?
"I want her before my birthday. Can you make it happen, Dada? Please, please, please." She pouted her lips, her big, pleading eyes melting my heart.
"If that's really what you want, Asher, I'll do my best. I'm happy for you, my gorgeous princess." She threw her arms around me and whispered, "Thank you, Daddy." Moments later, she handed me the book. "Read me about the beautiful fairy and her mother, Daddy." I gladly accepted it.
"Once upon a time," I began, "in a faraway land where fairies lived..."
Three minutes later, Asher was deeply and soundly asleep. I kissed her forehead, tucked her in, and turned toward the door. "Goodnight, and have the sweetest dreams." I glanced at the dim nightlight, took a deep breath, and gently closed the door behind me.
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**Author's POV**
In a wild field, she wandered, plucking lilies, her nose sensitive to the sweet, delicious scent of the white flowers. She felt an irresistible attraction to these lilies, almost as if they were calling to her.
As she picked them, she hummed a soft tune. Bit by bit, her basket filled with the sweet scents of lilies. Slowly, she moved toward the peony, picking the petals with utmost care, barely able to contain the joy swelling within her.
Suddenly, she heard unsettling noises behind her and felt a chilling cold seep into her bones. But she didn't relent; she drifted deeper into the garden, reluctant to leave.
Her heart sank as she sensed a presence drawing closer. Her heart raced, and her feet trembled. She turned to face the figure and whispered, "Don't kill me. I'm sorry, please." The figure wore a mask; on one side stood a child, and on the other, a gun.
"You have two options: marry me or watch your sister die," he sneered. Her heart pounded in her chest as she turned around.
Two men held a girl, who looked like a teenager, hostage at gunpoint. The choice was hers. Her decision could save herself, but she wasn't willing to sacrifice anyone.
Her heart constricted as tears streamed down her face.
In seconds, she was weeping, and then she turned away.
And then she was sinking beneath the harsh waves of the dead sea.
Peony awoke with a jolt, panting heavily. Cold sweat drenched her body as she shook and shivered. She leaned against her pillow, hands pressed to her chest, and whispered a silent prayer.
She didn't understand the horrific dreams that haunted her, and fear gripped her heart. Slowly, she slipped her feet into her slippers and recited a calming prayer.
Afterward, she rolled her hair into a bun and walked into the bathroom to take a bath.
As the cold summer water rushed over her, sweet sensations washed over her heart, sending delightful shivers through her. She scooped water into her hands, letting it cascade through her hair as she massaged her body. Her eyes fell on the scars littering her skin, and she swallowed hard while staring intently into the mirror.
"What happened to my body, Mum? It's covered in scars, and it doesn't feel good," she remembered asking when she first discovered them.
She recalled her parents exchanging uneasy glances before replying, "You fell from a tree when you were six. It was a bad moment, but it's better to forget than to remember."
Those brief moments with her parents made her more curious about the scars that marked her.
After her much-needed bath, she sat at a wooden stool, brushing her hair while wearing a beautiful white floral dress. Her immaculate face radiated warmth, and her plump lips danced in delight. For reasons only she understood, she had always been a happy child, except for the nagging feeling that she was missing something—or someone—important.
Knowing her dad had gone fishing and her mother was likely at their plantation farm, she found herself alone in the spacious garden, concocting and tasting her perfumes.
A few hours later, she sat calmly in the kitchen with five bottles of perfectly crafted perfumes. The lingering scents warmed her pounding headache.
"Peony." Her attention shifted to a lady wearing a white knee-length skirt and a blouse. She held a paper in one hand and a pen in the other, grinning cheerfully at her. Peony's expression changed to a frown as she turned to face her friend.
"Michelle! Finally, you came. Quite a friend I've got, huh?" Peony said, reaching for a box and placing the five bottles inside.
"I'm sorry, best friend. I apologize for being late. You won't believe this," Michelle said, her excitement palpable.
"Believe what, Michelle?" Peony replied, her interest waning.
"You're one of the five best, recruited as a performer for the billionaire's daughter, Mr. Ericks," Michelle revealed, her eyes sparkling.
The moment Peony heard those names, something familiar stirred within her. Fear gripped her heart as coldness washed over her. Fragments of memories flooded her mind, overwhelming her until she felt herself fading, her breath hitching and her body trembling before she blanked out.
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