Page 33 of The Villains We Make

“Let’s go in,” he says, taking my elbow and escorting me into room 414.

A doctor is taking my father’s blood pressure, and another police officer is inside his room. I notice the chain hanging over the edge of the foot of the bed. They must have his ankle cuffed to the bed. It’s degrading to see my father like this, and tears well in my eyes because he doesn’t deserve this.

“Ophelia,” Dad says, using my full name, which he rarely does.

I drag my gaze to his, knowing he saw me looking. “Dad.”

I run to him, and the doctor steps away. When the police officer comes forward to block me, Mr. Higgins puts a hand on his arm. “She’s his daughter. She just heard he was stabbed. Please.”

“Fine.” The guard steps back, and I hug my father. I would have anyway.

I realize as he holds me how much I’ve missed him. How much I miss my dad.

A sob breaks between us and Dad rubs my back. I pull away and wipe away my tears.

“Dad. Are you okay?”

“I’m going to be just fine, honey. You don’t worry about me, okay?”

I nod, even though I know I can’t do it. “What happened?”

“It doesn’t matter. Had little to do with me, I think. Just ended up in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“Who did it?”

“They don’t know. How are you, sweetheart? You’re still banged up from the accident.” He touches a bruise on my forehead.

“I’m fine, Dad. I’m tough, like you. Listen, I need to ask you some questions.”

He nods gravely like he was expecting this.

“I know Silas came to see you.”

“He did. And I’m pleased, Phee. It’s good you’re married to him.”

Mr. Higgins gestures for me to sit down on the lone chair and I do. He walks a few steps away, pretending to check his phone to give us some privacy.

“Who are the Carlisle-Bents? The Foxes, they showed me a newspaper clipping. They said… They said you kidnapped Mom, and I have a grandfather and an uncle. Dad, what’s going on?”

“The kidnapping, it’s not true, sweetheart. The papers sensationalize, you know that.”

“Tell me the truth then. Tell me the whole story.”

He nods, looking grave. “Your mom and I were together since we were young. You know that part. I worked for her family along with my mother. Claire and I, well, her father had other plans for his daughter that did not include me, and I can tell you now that I have you that I can understand. You want the best for your kids, and I was not that in his eyes. I was staff. She was his only daughter.” He takes a moment to pick up the glass of water on the bedside table and sips. “Then she got pregnant,” he says, glancing away, eyes growing misty. “And when her father found out, he wanted her to abort the baby.”

My heart misses a beat. I’m that baby.

“She obviously didn’t want that. She already loved you. Before she even knew you, she loved you, and she and I ran away. It was the only thing we could think to do. We changed our names and we got by until, of course, the accident.”

“Oh, Dad.”

“We weren’t legally married. We were never legally married.”

I nod to let him know I understand because this part doesn’t matter so much.

“We didn’t have the documents and were afraid we’d get caught. Carlisle-Bent never gave up looking for his daughter. After your mother died, I knew they’d take you from me if they ever found you, so I kept you hidden from them.”

I take it all in, and a glimpse of my face in the reflection of the window shows me I look like we’re having a bland, uninteresting conversation. Like he’s telling me what he had for breakfast or something. Not that what he is telling me is turning my world upside down as he speaks.

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