Page 11 of The Sin of True Love

MICHELLE

I’m fighting back tears as I drive home. If that wasn’t one of the most pivotal moments in my life, then I don’t know what was.

I try not to think about his face–that perfect, chiseled face and those piercing eyes that seem to stare into my soul like he already knows everything about me. What’s good for me. What I should do with my life. Because every time I do, I feel like breaking down.

For some reason, my dad’s car is in the driveway when I get home. As if this night could get any worse.

I try to just quietly sneak up to my bedroom, but he spots me from the living room when I step through the door.

“There you are,” he says. “I’ve been wondering where you’ve been.”

“I bet you have,” I reply, pulling out my phone and waving it at him. “No more real-time updates. Sorry not sorry.”

He frowns but quickly plays it off with a shrug. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, sweetie.”

“Weren’t you supposed to be at a fundraiser for the church tonight?” I ask.

“Oh, I was.” He smiles. “Just an appearance. But I was feeling tired, and I needed my rest.” He grins and clinks the ice in his glass of whiskey.

That’s it. I’ve had enough.

I turn away to head up to bed when he calls out to me again. “So where have you been, Michelle?”

I stop at the door and turn around to face him. I’m already on edge. I’m not sure why–maybe it’s Casey and all the things he’s been saying these last couple of days–when I turn and see him sitting there, like a king in his throne, I just snap.

“Dad, I’m an eighteen-year-old girl. I don’t need to tell you where I am or what I’m doing every second of the day.”

“Excuse me?” he replies, looking down his nose at me.

“You heard me.”

He tries to stare me down, but I just cross my arms at him and stare right back. I wonder how he’d react if I told him what I was just up to back at the construction site. That one of the men he and Richard had chosen to employ had his tongue in my mouth and his hand between my legs.

“You watch your tone with me, young lady,” he finally says, his voice low. “You’ve been given much in your life. All of it provided by me.”

“And that means what exactly?” I ask. “That I belong to you? That you can make me do whatever it is that you want? Has it ever occurred to you that maybe I don’t want the same things you want?”

In a blur, my father is on his feet.

He hurls his glass, which shatters against the wall, spilling ice and whiskey everywhere.

I step back, suddenly wishing Casey was here by my side as my dad advances on me.

“Tell me about what happened last night!” he growls.

“Wh-what about last night?” I’m stuttering now. I look weak.

“Don’t play dumb with me, girl,” he snaps. “Jerry told me all about it. You were out drinking at some dive bar! You! Drinking!”

“Oh, gee. And I wonder where I get that from!” I eye the bottle of dad’s whiskey, still sitting on the table beside his favorite living room chair. Dad turns and looks at the bottle, and when he looks back at me, I see a fire in his eyes I’ve only seen a handful of times in my life.

When he speaks, he speaks slowly, his voice stretched with poisonous tension.

“You are not old enough to drink yet, Michelle. Do you have any idea what would happen if you were recognized? If word got out that my daughter was partaking in underaged drinking?”

“Oh, your daughter,” I scoff. Now I feel like breaking something. “So that’s what this is about!”

“You’re a part of this family, Michelle! You have an image to uphold!”

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