The Secret of Father's Study​

My sister got married at twenty and had my nephew at twenty-one. I’m twenty-seven and can’t seem to get a man to stay. Over the years, I’ve brought home a string of boyfriends. But every time things start getting serious, my father invites them into his study. I don’t know what he says in there, but when they come out, they’re like different men. Strangers. Their eyes filled with a terrifying coldness, some looking at me like they wanted to wring my neck. My latest boyfriend swore he wouldn’t let my dad intimidate him. But after he stepped out of that study, his face was a mask of fury. He broke up with me on the spot, sealing it with two vicious slaps across my face. What is the real reason they all leave? What dark secret is hidden in my father's study? 1 “You’re a disgusting little tramp! Don’t you have any shame?” “Next time, I’ll just let your boyfriend kill you. Maybe then you’ll finally learn your lesson.” The moment my boyfriend was out the door, my father's face twisted into a dark scowl. The curses began. To be honest, I was on my fifth boyfriend, and they all ended the same way: ugly. And every single one of them had walked into my father's study a loving partner and walked out a monster. It was a transformation so sudden, so complete, it felt impossible. Yet, it happened every time. I stared at my father, my cheek still stinging, hoping for an apology that I knew would never come. The look in his eyes wasn't just anger; it was a chilling regret that my ex-boyfriend hadn't just finished the job and strangled me. He’d always favored my sister, showering her with affection while I was barely an afterthought. When I first wanted to date as a teenager, he forbade it. Yet, the moment my sister turned twenty, the legal age, he practically pushed her down the aisle. I watched with a hollow ache in my chest as my brother-in-law moved in, doting on my sister, their life a perfect picture of marital bliss. All I ever wanted was that—to be with someone I loved. But if my father caught me looking at them for too long, he’d kick me to the floor, snarling that marriage was a dream I should never dare to have. When my sister and her husband went on their honeymoon to Europe, he made me kneel in the living room for hours as punishment for my "improper thoughts." He even had my sister call me, her voice laced with pity, telling me not to get married, not to "ruin someone else's life." I never imagined my own father could be so cruel. For a while, I even wondered if I was adopted. A private investigator confirmed the bitter truth: I was his biological daughter. Desperate for answers, I posted my story on an online forum. The responses poured in, a torrent of theories from strangers. [Maybe you were born on the day he was supposed to close a huge business deal. Your birth made him lose a fortune, and now that he’s struggling, he’s taking it out on you.] [I bet you look like his mistress. Your mom hates you for it, so your dad does too.] I did some digging. My dad was a teacher; he’d never been in business. And by all accounts, he was a faithful husband. No mistress. The reason remained a mystery, a dark cloud that hung over my life. I was beautiful, men fell for me easily, but it never mattered. My father was a wall I couldn't get past. Finally, I begged my uncle for help. He was furious when he heard, telling me it was insane for a parent to wish loneliness upon their own child. He stormed over to our house, ready to confront my father. “What is wrong with you?” he shouted. “Your daughter found someone she loves! Our job as parents is to support them, not to sabotage them! Have you lost your mind?” My father said nothing. He just stared at my uncle with cold, flat eyes, then grabbed his arm and pulled him into the study. 2 When my uncle came out, the warmth in his eyes was gone, replaced by a venomous glare. He didn't say another word about my right to find love. Instead, he kicked me hard in the stomach. “You filthy mutt,” he spat. “Still thinking about dating at your age? Who do you think you are?” Just then, my aunt arrived, looking for him. She saw what he’d done and started screaming at him. But then my father led her into the study. When she came out, her face was grim. She warned me that if I ever thought about getting married again, she would personally poison me. I couldn’t understand it. What was in that study? What could possibly cause such a complete, chilling transformation in everyone who entered? Even my sister, who I’d been so close to growing up, now insisted I was better off alone. She’d secretly burned all my photos with ex-boyfriends and deleted their numbers from my phone, forbidding me from seeing them. The mystery consumed me, keeping me awake night after night. Through it all, my mother was my only ally. She owned three bustling restaurants and worked from dawn till dusk, so she was rarely home to see the worst of it. But she was on my side. After each breakup, I’d cried, screamed, pleaded. Nothing worked. The disappointment carved a hole in my chest, a gaping void that let the cold winds of despair howl through me. My father shot me a look of pure contempt before settling onto the sofa to watch TV. I walked over and stood directly in front of the screen. “Dad, just tell me. Why are you doing this to me? What did I ever do to you? Can’t we just talk about it instead of… this?” We were family. Surely, we could resolve this. He didn't even glance at me, his eyes fixed on the television. “I’ve told you. No dating, no marriage. If you disobey me again, I will kill you.” His eyes slid to the side, pinning me with a look of pure malice. A shiver of primal fear ran down my spine. He wasn't joking. He stood up, walked to the kitchen, and came back with a cleaver. His face was contorted in a mask of rage as he lunged at me. I screamed, scrambling back into my room and locking the door. I fumbled for my phone and called my best friend, Maya, begging her to call the police. They arrived quickly, with Maya right behind them. A female officer tackled my father, sending the cleaver skittering across the floor. Only then did I dare to creep out of my room. “Mr. Morgan, you’re under arrest for suspicion of attempted murder. You need to come with us to the station.” Even in handcuffs, my father looked completely unfazed, a smirk playing on his lips. Maya saw the gash on my arm from the cleaver and her face went pale. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she lunged forward and punched my father’s shoulder. “What is wrong with you? That’s your daughter!” she sobbed. “You’d rather kill her than let her get married?” She buried her face in her hands, her body shaking with sobs. I knew if the police weren’t here, she would have fought him herself to defend me. In a world of enemies, she was my one true friend. The police questioned my father, but he remained silent, a mask of unrepentant defiance on his face. 3 Maya stepped forward, holding up her phone. “I have proof. Monica has had five boyfriends since she was twenty, and her father instigated every single breakup. He even told them to hit her! I have photos of all her injuries. These men need to be punished!” A low, guttural laugh escaped my father’s lips. His expression was terrifying. He gestured for the officers to loosen their grip. “Fine, I’ll go with you,” he said, his eyes glinting. “But first, I need to get some important evidence from my study. If you’re afraid I’ll run, you can all come with me.” The air left my lungs. I threw myself in front of the study door, my body trembling, a cold sweat breaking out on my skin. “No! None of you can go in there!” I knew what would happen. If they went into that room, they would come out changed. They would become like all the others. Maya wrapped her arms around my shoulders. “Monica, it’s okay. The police are here. He can’t hurt you now.” She looked at me with such concern, but I just gripped the doorknob tighter, refusing to move. My eyes were wide with a terror the officers couldn’t understand. Two of them gently pried my hands from the door. “It’s alright, Monica. We’ll be right with him. He won’t be able to do a thing.” I shook my head wildly, tears splashing onto the floor. “No, please. You can’t go in there. Please.” My frantic reaction only made them more suspicious. One officer ordered me to stay put while the others followed my father inside. Maya was the last to enter. “It’s the end of the line for you,” she spat at my father. “You can play whatever games you want, but you tried to kill your own daughter. You’re going to prison.” She turned back to me, giving me a reassuring smile and a wink. “Don’t worry. I’ve got this.” I stood there, my heart a tangled mess of hope and dread. Maybe Maya was stronger. Maybe she could resist whatever poison was in that room. But I was a fool to hope. Through the crack in the door, I saw her face shift from confidence to confusion, then to sheer terror. Finally, it settled into a mask of cold, hard fury. She let out a scream of rage and smashed a teacup on the floor. My father just watched, a smug, knowing look on his face. When they came out, Maya calmly smashed her own phone on the ground. She turned to the police with a polite smile. “My apologies, officers,” she said. “This was all a misunderstanding. Mr. Morgan was just having a… spirited discussion with his daughter. He never intended to harm her. It was my mistake.” The officers’ faces hardened as they turned to me. “Don’t you ever file a false report again! You get a warning this time. Next time, you won’t be so lucky.” I collapsed to the floor, all the strength gone from my body. It was over. I had lost my last chance for help. Maya jabbed a finger at my forehead, her nails digging in. “Did you hear that? If you hadn’t lied about your dad trying to kill you, I wouldn’t have made a false report! You need to think about what you’ve done!” They all glared at me with contempt. The police uncuffed my father and left. As the front door closed, Maya’s face morphed into a cruel sneer. 4 She stormed into the kitchen, came back with two more cleavers, and thrust them into my father’s hands. “Uncle, you were right. Monica is a worthless tramp,” she said, her voice dripping with venom. “She has a good life, and all she can think about is chasing men. If she’s going to be so disobedient, you might as well just kill her.” “A waste of oxygen like her is better off dead!” Hot tears streamed down my face. I stared at her, my world tilting on its axis. “Maya, what are you saying? You’re my best friend!” She shoved my hand away. “I’m saying what I mean. You brought this on yourself.” My heart felt like it was being ripped in two. This was the girl I’d grown up with, the one who’d sneak me warm pretzels when my dad punished me by withholding dinner. The one who swore she’d always be there for me. Just a few weeks ago, we were walking together, and I’d asked her, “What if I never get married?” Her eyes had shone with fierce loyalty. “Then you won’t! I bought a house, remember? You can move in with me. I won’t get married either. We can adopt a kid and be a family, just the two of us.” She was the one who told me those men weren't worth my tears, that their sudden change of heart proved they never truly loved me. And now, she was one of them. The pain was a physical blow, a heavy weight crushing my chest. The suspicion in my mind was a thorny vine, tightening its grip until I could barely breathe. What was the magic in that room that could turn love into hate so completely? After that day, Maya and I were strangers. The physical wounds healed, but the psychological damage was deep. I started seeing a therapist, trying to claw my way back to some semblance of normalcy. My father and sister continued their campaign of control and cruelty, uncaring. Finally, my mom came home for her annual vacation. Every year, she took a few weeks off to spend with family. When she found out I’d been in therapy, she was overwhelmed with guilt. She came into my room and found me staring blankly at the wall. Tears streamed down her face as she wrapped me in a tight hug. “Monica, my baby, it’s all my fault. I’ve tried to talk to your father so many times, but he’s just so stubborn.” The pain in her eyes was real. I knew how hard it was for her. If it weren't for her love, I don't think I could have survived. She had always been my shield, the one person who would stand up to my father’s tyranny. But her work kept her away, and in her absence, the house had become my prison. Still, knowing she loved me was my lifeline. 5 I’d thought about moving out, but my father watched me like a hawk. He made it clear that if I tried to leave and secretly marry someone, he would find me and make me suffer in ways I couldn't imagine. The image of the study flashed in my mind, and I shuddered. I wrapped my arms around my mom's. "Mom," I whispered, "you’ll listen to me, right? No matter what?" She stroked my hair. "Of course, sweetheart. You’re my precious daughter. I’ll always listen to you." I looked at her, my eyes pleading. "Then promise me you won't go into Dad's study. Can you do that?" "Is there something in there?" "I don't know! Just… please don't go in. Promise me." "Okay, okay, don't get upset," she soothed. "I promise. I won't go in." "You're the best, Mom." "I'll always be here for you," she said, her expression serious. I believed her. As long as she stayed out of that room, she wouldn’t be brainwashed. She would still love me. She even told me she'd arranged a date for me with a wonderful man from a matchmaking site, muttering that no decent parent would ever stop their child from getting married. A wave of relief washed over me. I agreed to meet him on the weekend. The next day, she told me the date was off. We were supposed to get breakfast together that morning, but she didn't wake me. I slept until noon. When I finally emerged from my room, thinking she'd been called into work, she picked up a bowl from the dining table and hurled it at my head. Pain exploded across my forehead. Blood trickled down my face, dripping onto the floor. My father stood there, a vein throbbing in his temple. "Sleeping all day, you lazy good-for-nothing! Why don't you just die in your sleep so I can bury you!" Terror and disbelief washed over me. Tears fell like broken pearls. At the table, my mom was calmly eating a plate of barbecue ribs, not even glancing in my direction. My father grabbed a leather whip and brought it down across my back. The pain was white-hot, electric. I screamed. "Dad, what did I do? For years you've ruined my life, and now you're going to beat me to death?" His nostrils flared. "That would be for the best!" he roared. "Just looking at you makes me want to skin you alive! You want to get married so badly? When you're dead, I'll find you a groom in the morgue!" The whip whistled through the air again and again, splitting my skin. The agony was blinding. I thrashed and screamed until my voice was raw. Through a haze of pain, I could hear my mom laughing at a video on her phone, completely indifferent to the fact that her husband was beating her daughter to a pulp. I scrambled over to her, grabbing her leg. "Mom, make him stop! He's going to kill me!" I expected her to leap up, to shield me with her body. But she didn't move. She just gave me an annoyed look. "Well, you shouldn't have provoked him. You're getting what you deserve." My mind went numb. My arms trembled. She had been in the study. She had to have been. "You went into the study, didn't you!" I shrieked, my voice cracking. "You promised me you wouldn't! You promised we would go on that date! Did you forget?" My mother slammed her chopsticks down on the table. "Will you shut up! Of course I didn't go in the study! A pathetic creature like you wants to get married? If you don't learn to behave, I'll have your father choke the life out of you myself!" She was gone. The mother I knew was gone, replaced by another monster. Now, everyone in my life wanted me to either be alone or be dead. My sister and her husband walked through the living room, dressed to go out. They saw me, bruised and bleeding on the floor, and didn't even flinch. They just walked out the door. My father’s fists rained down on me until he was finally satisfied. Then he left, my mom clinging to his arm as they went into their bedroom. My body and soul were shattered. I couldn’t understand it. I was a normal girl. Why couldn't I have a normal life? It was the middle of summer, but my heart was frozen solid. My mother was lost to me. If I stayed in this house, I would die. That night, I waited until the house was silent. I packed my essential documents into a backpack, ready to escape. As I tiptoed through the dark living room, I saw a light on under the study door. I crept closer and peered through the keyhole. My father was sitting at his desk. On his face was the most terrifying smile I had ever seen, a grotesque grin stretching nearly to his ears. My body went rigid, ice flooding my veins. And in that single, horrifying moment, I finally understood why my father would never let me marry. Why he would never let me leave.

? Continue the story here ?? ? Download the "MotoNovel" app ? search for "385141", and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel