The Stranger Behind My Orgasm novel Chapter 293

Chapter 293: BEST DAD IN THE WORLD

Abigail

Lights? Check. Flowers? Check. Music? A hundred times check.

Security guards dressed like they were preparing for a terrorist attack? That part was unexpected. The hall where Finnegan’s birthday was held was alive when we arrived, but the security surrounding it was almost military-level. It made the hair on the back of my neck stand up.

Three blocks before we even reached the venue, the road had been blocked off. Police officers checked every car.

Finnegan had arranged multiple checkpoints, metal detectors, bag scans, ID verification — it was insane.

I recognized some men from his personal security team too. Police cars were parked in the compound. Even the guests had to go through rigorous checks.

"Sir, ma’am." A young officer waved us through the final checkpoint, his eyes flicking to Finnegan’s face. "Enjoy your evening, Mr. Wolfe."

I squeezed his hand as we finally stepped inside the hall after the last security sweep. "You really went all out, huh? Devin is in prison, Finnegan. What exactly are you afraid of?"

His jaw tightened, but his eyes were soft when they met mine.

"Call it a hunch," he replied, his thumb tracing circles against my knuckles.

"I’m not taking any chances. Devin broke into our home before. He evaded capture for weeks, and considering what happened at the last big company event we held, when Richard Saxon got shot, I’m not taking chances."

Fair point. After everything we’d been through, that was valid.

I just wished we didn’t have to be so on edge and jaded all the time. What would happen when I told him I was pregnant? Would we have to constantly live in fear, watching our backs? I didn’t want to give birth to my baby under that kind of stress.

I reached up, adjusting his tie and letting my fingers linger against his jaw. We stepped fully into the main hall, and Finnegan froze.

The entire space had been transformed.

Thousands of white camellias cascaded from the ceiling in artful arrangements, their petals soft as silk.

Crystal chandeliers caught the light and scattered it like stars across the room, and a string quartet in the corner played a lovely song.

What had made Finnegan freeze were the screens. Large, elegant screens lined the walls, cycling through beautiful photos of Finnegan and Angel through the years.

Baby Angel in his arms, her tiny fist wrapped around his finger; toddler Angel on his shoulders at a zoo, her hands in his hair, laughing at something off-camera; a young girl learning to ride a bike with him running beside her, his face determined, terrified, triumphant; teenage Angel laughing at something he’d said, her head thrown back, joy radiating from her.

I watched him take in each image, his throat working as he swallowed. Angel’s voice carried the voiceover over the slideshow.

"...My dad has always walked with me, even when no one was there to walk with him. Even when I didn’t want him to, even when I pushed him away, he never left. He never gave up on me. When my father loves, he loves with everything he has, and he doesn’t know how to love any other way. Happy birthday to the best dad in the world."

Finnegan’s eyes glistened, unshed tears turning them luminous in the screen’s glow. The tough, powerful CEO, the man who had built an empire and saved it from his mother and brother, looked so vulnerable. He pressed two fingers over his eyelids, and I almost fistbumped the air.

My heart swelled with love for him, so full it felt like it might crack my ribs.

"Abigail!" Eric’s voice cut through the music, and then they were all around us — Eric, Henry, and Arthur clapping Finnegan on the back.

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