Sandra, the assistant, walked briskly down the hallway, the manila envelope firmly in her hand. She had something important to tell Isaiah about the report but knew he was a busy man. She nervously knocked on his office door.

"Come in," Isaiah's voice called out from the other side. It was a busy day at the office. Isaiah, the CEO of his family's company, was rushing around putting out fires left and right.

Sandra opened the door and poked her head in. "Sir, I need to speak with you about the report." Then, she entered the office as he was gathering some files to rush out for a date with his mistress, Amber.

Isaiah glanced up from the papers on his desk, looking slightly irritated at the interruption. "Not now, Sandra. Do you have the report?"

"Yes, sir, it's right here," Sandra said, sliding the manila envelope across his desk. "But there's something important I need to tell you about what's in the report..." Isaiah snatched it from her hand without another word.

"I'll read it later, thanks." He brushed past her and hurried out to his destination—Le Pavillon.

His mind was preoccupied with thoughts of Amber. After spending the night with her—a night filled with wild, passionate fucking—he ached to see her again. Isaiah tucked the envelope under his arm and rushed out of the office, nearly bowling Sandra over in his haste.

Sandra stood there for a moment, wishing he had heard her out. With a sigh, she headed back to her desk. Isaiah was a handful sometimes.

Amber had left a seductive message on his voicemail. "Come over, handsome. I'm wearing nothing but the smile you'll put on my face," she purred. Isaiah couldn't resist her charms. He'd been lusting for the 26-year-old escort ever since he laid eyes on her at that club. He had even added her to his payroll as his “Traveling Assistant” a month ago.

Isaiah arrived at the upscale restaurant he and Amber always met at. He spotted her at the table, sipping a martini. Damn, she was a sexy thing. He loved their arrangement—great sex with no strings. Just how he liked it.

After a delicious dinner and plenty of wine, they headed back to their usual hotel room. They arrived at the suite and opened the door. Amber shed her dress, and with one look at her, Isaiah's blood began to boil with desire. Without a word, he pushed her inside and pinned her against the wall, kissing her hard.

They stumbled onto the bed, leaving a trail of clothes in their wake. Their bodies intertwined in a tangle of lips and hands—greedy fingers groping, rutting in a frenzy of moans and slurping noises filling the room.

Isaiah lost himself in Amber's nubile body, fucking her wildly, pounding into her from behind, fingers digging into her hips, a thumb in her ass, when suddenly Amber let out a scream of ecstasy.

"Mmmm, yes, Daddy! I'm cumming!" she cried out before going limp. Isaiah followed her to the edge moments later.

Spent, they collapsed together, panting, a sheen of sweat covering their bodies. Isaiah's softening member was still inside her. "That was incredible, as always," he puffed, planting a kiss on her shoulder.

Amber smirked and wriggled out from under him. "You know it, Daddy." She sauntered to the bathroom, hips swaying. Isaiah watched her ass appreciatively; his eyes fluttered closed as he drifted toward sleep.

Amber stayed awake for a bit, enjoying the afterglow, and then finally, she drifted to sleep. Isaiah’s arms wrapped tightly around her soft curves.

The next morning, Amber stirred before Isaiah, her mind racing. She slipped out of bed and padded over to the nightstand. The manila envelope from Isaiah's office caught her eye. Curiosity overcoming her, she picked it up and broke the seal.

Inside was a group of documents—a confidential report from a lab with her name at the top. Hands shaking, Amber flipped through the pages. The words began to blur together, but one sentence jumped out at her:

"A DNA test confirms Isaiah Washington as her biological father."

Amber's breath left her body in a rush as if she'd been punched in the gut. Isaiah… was her father? Nausea rose in her throat at the memory of their sexual activities.

Tears pricked at her eyes, but she blinked them back furiously. She had to get out of there before Isaiah woke up. Grabbing her clothes, Amber dressed quickly and quietly, not wanting to rouse him.

Her mind flashed back to that night they got to talking after sex. She had mentioned to him that she always wondered about her father. He had offered to look into it for her. And now this.

Just as she turned to slip out of the room, Isaiah stirred. "What's the rush?" he mumbled, voice thick with sleep.

"I have to go," Amber replied shortly, not meeting his eyes. She practically ran out of the bedroom, slamming the front door behind her.

Roused by the sudden noise, Isaiah sat up with a start. He blinked blearily, trying to get his bearings. Then he spotted the open envelope on the bed.

Picking it up, he read the words with growing horror. The DNA test… biological father… Amber… Oh God. With a sinking feeling, he read it and according to the lab analysis, he was a 99.9% match to be… Amber's father.

Holy shit! The girl he'd been fucking for months was his own daughter. He felt like his soul had been ripped out.

Isaiah felt the room spin and sway. He clutched the edge of the bed as a wave of nausea crashed over him, his head swimming. The facts hit him like a freight train—he had been fucking his own daughter.

Hot tears pricked at the backs of his eyes, and his throat tightened. This couldn't be happening. There had to be some mistake. But the documents were clear—the proof was irrefutable. Isaiah had fathered Amber nearly three decades ago.

He barely made it to the bathroom before losing the contents of his stomach. Violently ill, he retched over the toilet, his body shaking.

After what felt like an eternity, the heaves subsided and Isaiah slumped back against the cool tile. He hugged his knees to his chest and let out a shuddering breath.

His mind flashed back to meeting a young woman at a club in his early 20s, fresh out of college. He did not even get her name during their one-night stand.

Then he started to cry—deep, wracking sobs that tore through his chest. Sobs of horror, regret, and utter despair. Because he knew, with sickening certainty, that his life could never be the same.

"This is a nightmare," he muttered. What a monumental fuck-up. His life was about to get seriously complicated.

Isaiah knew one thing—he needed to figure out how to handle this clusterfuck. He had to take control of the situation.

With a heavy heart, he got dressed and headed out to track down his mistress/daughter. His whole world had just turned upside down in an instant. And he had no idea how he was going to put the pieces back together.

Their world had been irrevocably shattered by those few words on a document. A new reality, fraught with the forbidden and taboo, had been thrust upon them. And there was no going back.