The Thief Who Saved My Life

Chapter 22

My father didn't look convinced.

I could have explained that I took it so long because I'm that fucked up. That I knew he wasn't responsible for my actions and my mistakes. But the complete disregard had me so angry, I was shaking. So without giving myself time to think it through, I took off my shirt so that I was standing in my pajama pants and sports bra—the only one that I could wear semi-comfortably.

"These," I pointed to the light scars on my stomach, "are from when he was so angry that I tried to leave him that trapped me beneath him and cut me. And all of this," I turned so that he could see the bruising on my ribs and back, "is from when I said something that embarrassed him and he decided he was going to give me a few kicks before he forced himself on me while I cried and begged him to stop. I stayed with him because I didn't want to hurt you."

It was wrong to try to put all of this on him, but I thought he deserved it. I wanted him to show some sign, any sign of the slightest remorse. But he didn't.

"Not that any of that matters anymore."

"What do you mean?" my father asked.

"Do you even care?" I asked. "Everything I just said and that's the part you're going to focus on?"

He was silent. But I didn't go one, I refused. If he couldn't even look me in the eye, I wasn't going to discuss anything further. So I waited until the silence was so heavy it was weighing us all down and to talk would have been as awkward as staying silent. He finally met my eyes and I could see anguish in them, pain that I hoped was for me. Maybe he just didn't know how to react, so he chose the easiest thing to say.

That's what I told myself, anyway.

"About a year and a half ago I found out what you were doing. I found out that you were embezzling money from your business. Like, millions." I paused waiting, hoping he would tell me how wrong I had been, but of course he didn't. He couldn't deny it. "I didn't know what to do and I told someone I thought I could trust. I didn't know he had it all recorded." I let out a bitter laugh. "I don't think he was even trying to record me saying something like that, it was just there and turned on so that he could film... well, us. Then he realized what he had and when I tried to break things off he made it very clear that if I did, he would shared that video with the world."

"And you've ended things with him now?"

"Yes."

"You believe he make good on his threat."

"He will."

He leaned against the kitchen counter at a loss for words. He poured another large glass of scotch and quickly emptied the glass again before he looked at me. And there it was, written all over his face. The remorse I had been waiting for, hoping for. I could see it in the downward turn of his lips and in the worry lines that seemed to have deepened within the last twenty-four hours.

And I didn't get an ounce of satisfaction from it.

"I had no idea..."

"How could you have?" He was never home.

"Well," Julia said walking toward me. "There's nothing that can be done about it now. What happens will happen. You should get back upstairs. Rest a bit."

I walked out of the kitchen and paused, leaning against the wall.

"You have to know, Julia," I head my father say quietly. "If I had known... If I had any idea of what was going on..."

"I know, Cal," she said. "I know you aren't a monster and I know you love your daughter. But you should have made it your priority after what happened in December. It should have always been your priority."