Gabriel's Obsession

A Fragile Forgiveness

The room spun.

"No," I choked out, tears pricking at my eyes. "You're lying. My dad would never—he loves me! I'm his daughter!" My voice cracked, raw with desperation. "This... this has to be some sick joke. Please, tell me it's not true."

Gabriel's expression softened—not with kindness, but with something worse. Pity.

"Unfortunately, angel," he said smoothly, "it's the truth. If you need proof, I'd be more than happy to show you the transaction record. The money's already sitting in his account."

The world shattered.

A sob ripped from my chest as I staggered back, the weight of betrayal crushing me. My father—my own father—had sold me.

Fifteen million dollars.

That was my worth to him.

Tears streamed down my face as I gasped for air, my entire reality crumbling beneath me. Jonathan's words—his whispered doubts, the suspicions I had dismissed so easily—now roared in my mind like a deafening storm.

He was right.

My father wasn't the man I thought he was.

And I... I was nothing more than a commodity.

"Enough tears, angel. Go and freshen up."

Gabriel's voice cut through my sobs, firm yet laced with something unreadable. Amusement? Pity? Contempt? I couldn't tell, and I didn't care.

I moved in a daze, clutching the quilt tightly around my body, as if it could shield me from the weight of his gaze, from the nightmare I couldn't wake up from.

He chuckled darkly. "Just drop the quilt. I already saw your precious body last night."

His taunt sliced through me like a blade, a fresh wound atop the countless others he had inflicted. I kept my head down, pretending I hadn't heard him, my focus locked on reaching the bathroom—on escaping, if only for a few moments.

The door clicked shut behind me, sealing me into temporary solitude.

Stepping under the shower, I let the water rush over me, but it did little to wash away the filth I felt clinging to my skin. My mind spiraled, unable to escape the crushing weight of betrayal.

How could he do this to me?

My father.

The man who had raised me, who was supposed to protect me—he had sold me. Traded me like a commodity, as if my existence could be measured in dollars and stripped of humanity.

Fifteen million. That was all I was worth to him.

A bitter lump formed in my throat as I struggled to piece it together. Had our relationship always been this fragile, or had I just been too naïve to see it? Sure, there had been distance between us, moments where he felt more like a figure in the household rather than a father—but I had never imagined he would go this far.

And my mother...

Had she known? Had she been part of it?

The thought sent a shudder through me.

She had always been a caring presence in my life, a warmth my father never quite managed to provide. She had encouraged me to ask him for money to fund my dream bakery. Had she done so knowing what he had already planned? Had she known I was nothing more than a transaction waiting to happen?

No.

I refused to believe it. My mother had her flaws, but she wasn't this. She couldn't be.