Perverted Daddy System

Morning. The smell of coffee, the sound of Katie humming in the kitchen, and a whole floor of empty rooms waiting upstairs. I sit at the table and let her put a cup in front of me before I drop the news.

"We’re moving," I say.

Katie pauses, mid-pour. "Moving?"

"Upstairs. The whole fifth floor. Master suite for us, a room for Hope, a room for Hester — and one more, for later."

She looks at me for a long moment. Katie’s no fool; she’s been in on this from the start, my first follower, the slave who knows my plans better than anyone. She reads the shape of it in three seconds flat, and instead of asking, she smiles.

"The girls will love it," she says.

"I’m counting on it."

Hope comes in first, hair mussed from sleep, and Hester follows a minute later, already dressed and sharp. I break the news over toast, and Hope freezes with a bite halfway to her mouth.

"Today?"

"Today. Three apartments up there, knocked together into one big one. You two get first pick of the rooms."

Hester’s eyes go bright. Hope looks from her mother to me and back. "Can we see it first?"

"After breakfast. We’ll go up as a family."

It’s a good morning. The girls eat as fast as they can, Katie keeps catching my eye with that small knowing smile, and by the time the plates are cleared we’re all standing in the hall with a hand on the door.

"Alright," I say, key in hand. "Ladies first."

The fifth floor has been waiting. The three apartments were united into one during the renovation when I took the building — walls opened up, the whole thing turned into a single sprawling home. It’s been mine ever since, and the light comes through the big windows like the building is showing off. Hope and Hester have seen pieces of this floor before — the living room for both, the dungeon for both, and Hope a bedroom — but never the whole thing, never all of it at once. Seeing it through their eyes now makes it new again.

I lead them through in order. The living room first — wide and open, with a couch that’s going to fit all six of us one day. The kitchen, bigger than the one downstairs, with a breakfast bar and a stove Katie walks up to and touches like it’s an old friend. Past that, the hall opens onto the bedrooms, each one its own space.

"Ben," she says, soft. "This is..."

"Ours," I finish.

Then the rooms. The master suite is at the end of the hall, and I open the door on a bed that’s twice the size of the one downstairs. Katie goes quiet for a second, and I feel her hand brush my sleeve before she steps past me to look at the windows. She stands there a long moment, and I know she’s already picturing us in that bed — the two of us, the way it’s always been, only bigger.

Hester walks to the window and looks out over the square. The view’s the best in the place. She doesn’t declare anything or stake a claim — she just nods, small and sure, and runs a hand along the empty closet rail like she’s already picturing what will hang there. The room fits her the way she fits silence: without fuss, and with everything in its place.

The two of them take off down the hall, and I let them go, listening to their voices echo through the empty rooms. Katie comes up beside me and slips her hand into mine.

"They’re happy," she says.

"They are."

"You made them happy." She squeezes my hand. "This whole thing — you did it for them, didn’t you?"

"For all of us." I look down at her. "Plus, we need more space for our family’s fun times..."

Hope doesn’t browse. She heads straight for the far door — the extra bedroom, the one with the door that’s been closed since we got up here. She pushes it open and stands on the threshold.

I know the room. I know the bed. I know the exact spot where she lay face down with a magazine, weeks ago, an indignant kid who didn’t think she needed a babysitter and got a handsy one instead.

Hope runs her hand along the doorframe, then looks back at me with a small, strange smile. "This one," she says. "I want this one."

Hester asks, obviously intrigued by her smile, "Why that one?"

Hope’s smile grows. "This is where the magic started."

Hester looks at her, confused for a second, and then understanding crosses her face and she grins, "Then, should I go sleep in the dungeon?"

Katie lets out a laugh, bright and startled.

I keep my face neutral, but inside something warm settles. She knows. She’s always known — that first night in this room was where it all began, the quiet work of turning an indignant kid into a devoted daughter. She says it like a joke, but there’s a weight under it that only the two of us fully understand. Katie knows too, from the way she’s watching Hope — proud, and a little knowing.

"Then it’s yours," I say.

We spend the morning moving. It’s not a big job — the building’s mine, and the penthouse was already my home, so there’s nothing to sell or explain. Just boxes and bags and the girls hauling their own stuff up in the elevator while Katie and I handle the furniture. Hester needs one trip — her clothes, a backpack, and a teddy bear. Hope fights with a box of books twice her size and refuses help, wobbling into the elevator with her jaw set. Katie directs traffic from the master suite — "that one goes against the window, no, the other window" — and at some point she catches me alone in the kitchen and presses a quick kiss to my cheek.

"You planned this all along," she murmurs.

"I plan everything."

"Mmm. I know." She gives me that look, the one that says she’s not fooled for a second, and I can’t help but pull her against me. She’s warm and willing, and for a moment I toy with the idea of taking her here and now, with the girls coming and going, but in the end I decide against it. If the girls see us, they’ll want in on the action, and the move will never be over.

"It’s not just the space, is it," she says, quiet, into my shirt. "This isn’t only about us getting more room."

I don’t answer right away. She’s fishing, gently, and she already knows the answer — she always does. "It’s about us getting the room we need," I say. "All of us. And the room we’re going to need."

"Mm." She pulls back, meets my eyes. "That’s what I thought. The room at the end of the hall."

"You noticed."

"I always notice." She pats my chest. "And I think it’s a good idea. They’re good girls, Ben. They’ve been through a lot."

"Tonight," I say. "After everything settles. I want to break this bed in properly."

"Please do."

The last boxes come up around noon. There’s a room at the end of the hall that I don’t open — the twins’ room, set up already with a double bed and furniture, the shelves empty, waiting. Hope passes it on her way back from a wander down the hall and pauses, a question on her face. She doesn’t ask. She’s too smart for that. The girls haven’t asked about it. They will, eventually, but not today.

In the afternoon I take Hope and Hester out for lunch, just the three of us, the two of them still lit up from the morning, Hope talking nonstop about whose room is better and what she’s going to put on her shelves. When we come back the place is starting to feel like a home instead of a construction site. Katie’s put flowers on the kitchen counter. Hester’s room is bare and neat, her few clothes hung with care, the teddy bear placed square in the middle of the made bed. Hope’s room smells like her — that familiar mix of vanilla and the perfume she’s been wearing since she was fifteen. The new bed groans under her when she flops onto it, and she lies there grinning at the ceiling, arms spread wide.

"I could get used to this," she says.

Hester pops her head in, quiet, and takes in the room. "Yours is nice," she says, soft.

"Yours too."

Their voices fade down the hall, and I stand in the doorway of Hope’s room a moment longer, then go check the dungeon. It stays locked. I run a hand over the key, let myself imagine the night coming — the room at the end of the hall, the thick walls, the locked doors — and I smile. Not yet. Soon.

By evening the last of it is done. We eat dinner at the breakfast bar, the four of us squeezed in like it’s always been this way, and I watch them — Katie laughing at something Hope said, Hester quietly sliding the last of the bread onto her sister’s plate — and think about how this is the shape of things to come. A bigger home. More rooms. More girls. The fifth floor feels full already, and it’s only half of what it will be.

After dinner the girls drift off to their own rooms, testing beds and walls and the new quiet of having space. I hear Hope’s door close, then Hester’s, and then the muffled sound of them calling goodnight down the hall to each other. Katie kisses my cheek and heads for the master suite with a look that promises more later. I stand in the hall for a moment, listening to the house settle around me, and I can feel it — the thrum of a plan coming together, the warmth of a family under my roof, the anticipation of the night ahead.

The walls are thick up here. The doors lock. And the room at the end of the hall is ready.

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