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I stare, horrified. I can barely believe the words coming out of my father right now. The pure filth, the hatred. He’s seething, raging, like he can’t control himself. I knew he had anger in him, but this is too much, and real fear twists up my insides. I don’t know how far he’s willing to go, but I start to realize I haven’t begun to see the depths he’ll stoop if it means getting what he wants.
“Dad, no. I can’t do that.”
“You stupid girl.” He reaches forward and grabs my wrist, yanking it forward, trying to wrench it behind my back. His grip is so tight I think he might break my bones. I gasp in pain, twisting away from him, groaning, but he won’t release me. “You’ve fucked me. I worked so hard to get us where we are and all you had to do was marry that stupid Crawford asshole, spread your legs, pump out children, and set our family for life. Instead, you acted like the dumb, prissy, pathetic, worthless little—”
“Dad!” I shove him away, breathing hard, and he finally lets me go. I rub my arm and glance up at the driver, but the man’s staring straight ahead like nothing’s happening, like he doesn’t give a crap if my father hits me or says horrendous things to me or even strangles me to death right here in the back seat.
This is the world I live in, where human dignity doesn’t matter, only the number of zeroes at the end of a check.
It’s sick, all of it is so sick. Tears gather in my eyes and I struggle to hold them back because I know it’ll only make my father angrier. Whenever I cry, it only pisses him off worse, like I want to be sobbing or something, like I’m doing it to manipulate him. When really, I can’t help it at all.
My father knows only rage and passion, but nothing else, no sorrow, no pity, no genuine love.
He stares back at me and there’s nothing in his eyes. No recognition, no shame, nothing. He’s not looking at me like I’m his daughter.
No, right now, I’m only an object, just a piece on a game board he’s using to further his own selfish goals.
And I hate him. I hate him so much it makes me sick.
“I won’t go to the Crawfords,” I say through the tears. Dad’s face twitches.
“You will, Marie, or I swear—”
“You’ll do what? Cut me off? I knew you’d do that the second I sent that email to Bella Baby. What are you going to do?”
“Kill you,” he says through his teeth.
I sit there, stunned. My own father, threatening to kill me? He’s done some pretty bad things in the past—told me I was fat, stupid, lazy, a myriad of negative, awful insults—but he’s never threatened to murder me before.
And the worst part of it all is I think I believe him.
When my father says he lost millions this morning, he’s not joking.
His fund is worth billions, and if this is as bad as I think, the entire thing might blow up in his face and ruin him.
All those years of hard work and struggle for nothing.
The only thing my father loves in this world is money and power. His fund brings him both of those things. His fund is his entire identity, and without it, my father will be adrift and meaningless, and I don’t know what he’ll do. If it’s going to be taken away, he’ll do anything he can to make sure that doesn’t happen, including taking his own daughter’s life.
He’ll do it. God, it’s wrong, it’s so sick and wrong, but he’ll do it.
And there’s nothing stopping him.
“You’re being unreasonable,” I say, glancing at the door and out the window. We’re still moving, but at least it’s not locked. “Daddy, you’re not being serious.”
“I am, Marie. I might not kill you today. I might not kill you tomorrow. But if my fund slowly bleeds, I’ll make sure you slowly bleed too. If you refuse to go to the Crawfords, I will make sure you suffer for it. I have given you everything, sacrificed so much just to make you happy, and now if you’re turning your back on me. I won’t allow it.”
The absurdity hits me hard. He sacrificed for me? That’s incredibly rich coming from him. This man hardly raised me, hardly gave me the time of day growing up, except to insult and punish and push harder and harder. He did nothing but write checks and send me to private schools, and while I appreciate all of that, he didn’t sacrifice a damn thing. I’m a rounding error for him. I’m a week’s worth of profits.
“William won’t take me back, Dad. Even if I went there and begged, it’s over. He hates me too much. I saw him recently—”
