I hadn’t expected him to turn on me. To protect her, he struck me across the head with a wooden stick, the impact sending a sharp pain radiating through my skull. But that wasn’t enough for him.
He went home and took his rage out on our daughter.
He locked her in a dark room, forcing her to watch horror movies, her cries echoing through the walls.
"Clara, this is the price you pay for daring to touch Ophelia.”
"Remember, for every time you hurt her, I will hurt your daughter in return."
He spoke as if she meant nothing to him.
"Nathaniel, you’re heartless! She’s your daughter, too!"
"No. She’s a bastard child, an obstacle that kept me from being with Ophelia."
Seven years ago, he had been drugged and drunk at a business dinner when a female client tried to take advantage of him. And from that night, our daughter was born, a child he had never wanted.
At the time, his family’s business was still struggling.
When he fell into trouble that night, I was the one who saved him, taking him to a nearby hotel to rest. But in his drunken haze, he suddenly lost control, pulling me into a desperate kiss.