His evil laughter wafts around the room, sending chills tiptoeing up my spine. “I think you’ll find that I can, and I will.” He removes an envelope from his inside jacket pocket, tapping it on the back of one hand as he smirks at me. “Your naivety has left you vulnerable, Abigail, which only adds to my disappointment. I taught you better than that, but you’re just like every other useless female. Weak and ruled by her emotions.”
A look of disgust crawls over his face. “You will do what you’re told, because I have the power to takeeverythingfrom you. Starting with this.” He places the envelope on the bed beside me. “This is just the beginning. Think of all those you love. Your rebelliousness puts every single one of them at risk. You can test me if you like, but I wouldn’t advise it, although I’d enjoy ticking every name off that list.”
“You sicken me.”
“The feeling is mutual.” He leans down into my face, and his sour breath turns my stomach. “If I didn’t need you, I’d have squeezed the life out of you the second you were born.”
A messy ball of emotion clogs my throat, and I work hard to maintain a neutral expression. I’ve always known he’s hated me, and if he was capable of anything even close to love, I wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end of it. But to hear his disdain spelled out so bluntly hurts.
But it also motivates me and helps keep me focused, so I should probably thank him for his indifference, because it ensures I never lose my determination.
I don’t want to let my emotions get the better of me, because then I’m just proving his point. So, I do what I always do to deflect my feelings. Concentrate on something unemotional. “Why do you need me?” I pierce him with hateful eyes. “My marriage to Charlie doesn’t help with your auto-drive program, so why is it so important?”
He narrows his gaze at me, and I notice the fine lines at the corners of his eyes are no longer there. My father is forty-six, but he doesn’t have a wrinkle on his tight face, because he’s long been an advocate of cosmetic surgery and a regular visitor to Doctor Gunning’s Rydeville clinic. His vanity and arrogance know no bounds, and he spends an inordinate amount of time—for a man—on his appearance. Dying his hair as soon as any gray appears at his temples. Working out for two hours a day without fail. Eating a carefully calorie-controlled diet. Getting weekly manicures and facials.
I guess those women he fucks in his sex den expect their men a certain way, and he doesn’t like to disappoint them.
Or he’s just that vain.
Bile floods my mouth again, and looking at him makes me ill.
“The reasons are none of your business. Your job is simple, Abigail. Look pretty. Smile. Speak only when spoken to. Open your legs whenever your husband demands it, and run an orderly house.” He smooths a hand down the front of his custom-made navy suit. “Surely, even you can manage that.”
I want to tell him to fuck off, but I don’t want another slap, so I settle for glaring at him instead.
“Read the letter.” His cold, inhumane eyes penetrate mine. “And remember you forced me to do this, Abigail. This is on you, and your behavior will decide whether it warrants further action. Cooperate and I’ll consider the matter closed. Disobey me, and your loved ones will continue to pay the price.”
He stalks out of the room without a backward glance, leaving me clutching the envelope in my trembling hands.
I know what’s in this letter has the power to destroy me, and I’m tempted to ball it up and throw it in the trash. But knowledge is power, and wallowing in a pit of denial won’t help.
I’ve already decided my father is dead to me.
And it’s not just enough to run away now.
I want to fucking bury him. To end his life as he knows it.
Metaphorically speaking, because death is too easy for a psychopath like him.
I want him to suffer, and I’ll make him pay. I don’t know how. But, someday, he is getting what’s coming to him.
I open the envelope, unfolding the letter with sweaty hands and a heart that’s trying to beat a path out of my chest. I draw deep breaths, trying to prepare myself, but nothing could prepare me for these words.
Pain infuses every cell in my body as I read, my teardrops soaking the page and blurring the ink as silent tears cascade down my face. Choking sobs clog my throat and the weirdest noises escape my mouth as I die inside.
I know he’s a monster, a psychopath, but this… This goes beyond that.
There are no words in the English language strong enough to describe him.
The letter floats to the ground as I curl into a ball, clutching my arms around myself, as gut-wrenching sobs birth straight from my soul. Agonizing pain rips through me, and it’s like I’m being beaten up from the inside out. Wave after wave of pain batters me from all sides, and I scream and scream, over and over, until my dry throat rebels and I can’t make another sound.
Time ceases to have meaning again, and I rock myself to sleep, absorbed in inner pain, vowing to make him suffer.
CHAPTER TWO
“Abby.” Her soft voice whispers in my ear, and cool hands brush hair back off my brow. I whimper, leaning into her hand, her voice affecting me even in sleep.
“Mommy!” I cry, reaching for her.
