I slowly turned around to face my father. His face was calm and blank, showing no emotion at all except for his eyes.
They were dark and menacing, radiating a vibe of pure rage.
His presence was felt all around the room and everyone acknowledged it by straightening up and replacing their previously happy expressions with blank and docile ones. Their stances were respectful and their heads faced downwards.
I looked at him directly, the only one brave enough to do so.
"I asked you, Sephora, what you were doing here and I have not received a reply," he said.
"I am enjoying some cake, father," I replied.
My father's face twitched when I said this but he quickly concealed it under a smile. He looked around me at the cake and then walked forward.
He scooped some icing from the top of the cake with his finger and stuck it in his mouth.
"Very nice. Maddy, you have done it again. You have created a fabulous cake. It is such a shame it must go to a waste," he said picking up the cake, as if it weighed the same as a feather, and holding it up to the light.
Then he flung the cake as hard as he could until it hit the wall, spraying everywhere on impact.
I flinched in response and got off my seat.
His face searched mine for a reaction I refused to give.
He looked around at the mess he had created and then finally spoke.
"Who authorized this little get together?"
Steve cleared his throat and said,
"Sir, with all due respect you did."
My father looked at him with raised brows.
I glanced at Steve, silently pleading with him to be quiet, but he refused to meet my gaze.
"I authorized this get together?" My father asked in a tight voice.
"Yes sir, you did."
"When did I give you permission to have this party?" He spat out the word 'party' as if it was a swear word
"It was two weeks ago, sir, when you told me to hire professional help for the celebration tonight. You said that our services, that of the staff's to be specific, would not be needed for the night and we may spend it as we wish. When I inquired about having refreshments you said that we may, as long as we did not disturb the party," Steve said.
"Ah yes, you did, I remember now. Very well, carry on." My father said heading towards the door.
I had just began to relax when he suddenly stopped, turned around and pointed at me.
"Steve, the party you requested was for the staff. She is not part of the staff."
He looked at Steve and waited. His lips were curled up in a nasty smirk as he trained his eyes on him.
Steve fumbled for an answer under my father's intimidating gaze.
I couldn't stand to see him in such a state and spoke up.
"I came here on my own. The party was too loud and gave me a headache so I came to ask Maddy if she had some aspirin. When I saw the cake, I couldn't resist a slice and asked Maddy to give me some," I said, but my father had stopped listening to me.
He looked at me with a strange expression.
I followed his gaze to see what had caught his interest and I saw my mother's necklace resting in the hollow of my neck.
It was a simple gold chain with a small heart locket that held a picture of my mother and me several years ago.
"Sephora, remove the item on your neck and bring it here," he said quietly.
I stood still delaying what was going to happen.
"I will not repeat myself, Sephora," he said, his voice getting louder with each word.
Without waiting for me to respond, my father stormed forward and ripped the necklace from my neck.
My head flew forward as the fragile chain snapped.
He threw the necklace on the floor and raised his leg before bringing it down on the necklace.
That's when I heard the scream.
I felt a piercing pain radiate through my wrist and looked down. The necklace was nestled safely in my palm and my father's foot was pressed down on top of my hand.
It quickly dawned on me that I was the one that screamed.
There was a bubble of shock and silence surrounding all those in the kitchen. No one dared to make a sound or move a muscle for fear of the storm that was about to change everything.
My father looked down at his foot and then at me.
The moment we locked eyes I knew it was over. The carefully executed dance that my father and I had been doing for years had reached its climax and was now crashing down, leaving those around us as witnesses.
In his eyes, I saw a glimpse of what at one time could have been love but over the years had been twisted, repressed and manipulated into hate. Hate at my mother for leaving us when she did. Hate at the world that had made him who he wasn't. Hate at me for being his only reminder at what was and his only hindrance to what he could be.
He broke his stare on me and took his foot off my hand, releasing a new burst of pain that I ignored. He reached down and turned my hand over, uncovering the necklace clenched in my fist. His face was stoic and his mouth was set in a thin line.
He looked up at me again and said,
"What makes her so special?"
Without waiting for an answer, my father got up and addressed the staff.
"Clean up this mess. I want this place spotless by tomorrow morning and if a word of what happened here leaks to the media I will replace every one of you."
My father walked towards the door and paused. He shot a single word over his shoulder and then carried on.
"Goodbye."