Page 47 of Unspoken Obsession

"Because it isn't safe, and I am wasting resources trying to keep you safe. Just come home. Living in the main house I can keep a better eye on you and your boy. It will be better for everyone."

I shake my head. No, it won't be better for me or for Damion.

He is pretending he wants me to move back there because of safety issues - but it's not true.

For him it always is - it will always be about control.

"Dad, I am staying here. I'm happy here."

"No, you are coming back to the main house with me. My men will help you pack your things. Get dressed."

Frustration burns in me. I set Damion in his chair in the kitchen then turned to face my father. "Listen carefully when I tell you I am not leaving this apartment. You will have to drag me out of here kicking and screaming if you want that. You hate to cause a scene. My neighbors are really nosy. I am old enough to live my life and make my own choices. And if for any reason I am not safe - it is still my choice not to live with you." I say with heated determination.

My father stands with a steel expression on his face, staring down at me. His white hair and white beard make him look cold and emotionless. His eyes are dead.

He watches me for a long time. My breathing grows heavy as fight-or-flight kicks in.

Then he smirks. A cold, heartless smirk.

"Fine." He says, and I let out a breath.

"Fine," I repeat.

"Stay here. But this is not the end. I want you back at the mansion. I'm sure you'll see the error of your choice soon enough."

I clench my teeth together, not wanting to say anything to trigger him. I just want him to leave.

He looks me up and down one last time, looking disappointed - then he pulls my front door open and leaves, shutting it behind him.

I stagger, and let out a heavy breath, fighting tears of fear and adrenaline.

I can't believe he was in my house.

My home.

He was right here.

Uninvited.

It was his way of reminding me he was still in control of everything. He always gets what he wants.

But he will never get my son. I will not move back into that house.

Damion will not grow up in the same horrible narcissistic environment that I did. It drains a person - being around my father that much.

I want so many better things for my little boy.

I turn to the kitchen and lift him out of his chair, hugging him tightly. He seems confused. Not even making a sound.

"It's ok, little guy. Everything is ok." I keep repeating - more to myself than to him.

I can still feel the burning threat of tears when I put him back on the ground and ask him if he is ready for breakfast.

I flick on the kettle, just because I need something to do. I need to be normal and try to grasp my morning routine. Coffee. Breakfast. Cartoons for Damion.

I am sitting on the sofa in the living room, still worried about how easily my father just walked in here - when my phone buzzes and I practically jump at the sound.

"Oh, my word," I mutter to myself, as I reach inside my purse for it.

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