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My father's fingers snake around my wrist, jerking me closer to him. His thunderous eyes meet mine, and I can tell just how pissed off he is.
"What did I tell you about talking back?" he says, his voice only more frightening because of how calm and collected it is. "Do you really want me to discipline you right here, in front of everyone?"
“Oh, you’re actually going to dirty your own hands?” I scoff at him. “No one to do your dirty business around now, is there, Father?”
I raise my chin defiantly. My heart throbs in my chest with the knowledge that I've fucked up again. My father doesn't take easily to these slip-ups I've been having since I arrived at Oakes Estate. He doesn't shy away from punishing me for my mishaps, either.
"Apologize." His fingers dig into my skin, the nails leaving red crescent moons on my tender flesh. "Right now."
"I..."
I look up at my father, ready to defy him, but end up hanging my head when I see the pure rage in his eyes. He's not going to take no for an answer.
"I'm sorry."
"Not to me." He forces me to turn around and face Hawthorne and his son. "To them."
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"I'm sorry," I repeat again, hating how compliant I sound.
But I need to play along with their sick, twisted games. It will make getting away from here easier if they don't suspect I'm already plotting my escape.
"Are you really?" Hawthorne narrows his eyes at me.
Despite my rude remarks, he's a handsome man, but I'm revolted by him. The mere sight of him makes me feel uneasy.
"Or are you just saying that, so Daddy dearest doesn't turn you into pulp in front of us?"
I grit my teeth together, fighting the nasty response that's on the tip of my tongue. Instead, I look meekly at the ground.
"I'm not about to be insulted by a girl plain enough to be the help," Hawthorne tells me coolly. "In fact, I think you should apologize again. Properly, this time."
I glance at my father for backup, but he's standing still, refusing to look at me. He crosses his arms, smirking at Hawthorne but not correcting him. So, this is actually happening. Fuck him. Fuck them all.
"What do you want from me?" I ask the man, holding back the sneer.
"How about..." He takes a step closer, taking my chin in his fingers and inspecting my face. "You get on your knees and bow to me."
I recoil in revulsion. He can't be for real. But a look at my father's face reveals what I'm most afraid of – I'm going to have to do this, right now.
"Now!" Hawthorne adds, pointing to the ground and letting go of my face.
Next to him, his son chortles. They're loving this.
I promise myself I'll have revenge for this as I let my knees sink to the ground. My long white dress is dirtied further by the grass and dirt as I kneel in front of them, casting my gaze to the ground.
I hate myself for following through. But not as much as they'll hate themselves for doing this to me when it's my turn to have vengeance on them.
"Now, I really don't think this is enough," my father says thoughtfully. "She did offend you greatly, didn't she, Hawthorne?"
"Indeed, she did," my father's business partner drawls out, seemingly pleased with my father's assistance.
What kind of father demeans his own daughter to please a business acquaintance?
The kind of father who has his son beat his flesh and blood for the first time the day she arrives back at his estate, I remember bitterly.
I've only been back a week, and I've already tasted the nasty punishments my father is so keen on doling out.
