Page 27 of About Love and Revenge

I’m well-acquainted with lying. I grew up watching a man pretending and manipulating whenever he was after something.

You might think that being an impersonator makes me a self-serving woman, as if I try to please people to get something in return, but you couldn't be more wrong. I just want them to leave me alone. When I fake some feeling or emotion, when I say what I think people want to hear, it's purely and simply so they won't disturb me.

My father, however, is a master of the art of useful deception, the kind used to get what he wants. He used that on all of us, but I learned pretty quickly.

The first and only time that I remember him tricking me was when I was about ten years old. I'd had candy before dinner, which was forbidden and a mortal sin by his rules.

I happen to have a sweet tooth and have always been crazy aboutmelomakarona. I looked forward to eating the cookies covered in chopped almonds, but it was rare for my father to allow the maid to make them for us, because he said he didn't want fat people in our house.

I liked to dip mine in honey. To this day, my mouth waters when I remember it.

That day, I went to the kitchen and got one before dinner. I remember the exact sensation when the taste hit my tongue. It was like tasting a piece of paradise, and despite being afraid of the consequences, I didn't regret it.

I thought I had committed the perfect crime.

I was wrong.

There was no one in the room, but somehow Leandros found out.

Of course, he didn't have proof, but he was good at convincing people. He called me to the library and started asking me questions. I was already learning how to fake it, so I tried to hide and avoid giving answers.

My dad seemed to change the subject, chattingwith me about other things, and he even smiled as if we were spending a normal father-daughter afternoon together.

It was so rare—having someone pay attention to me—that I forgot about everything else.

Then, out of nowhere, he went back to asking about the cookie. He said it didn't matter if I’d eaten it and that there shouldn't be any secrets between us. He promised that I would not suffer any punishment.

I believed him.

I was so eager to please him that I told him I had eaten just one. I remember the almost instantaneous change of expression on his face. The smile was gone, and his features returned to their usual indifference.

He stood up and, without any warning, slapped me so hard I hit my head against the back of the chair.

On that day, I realized who I was.

From the age of eight he explained to me that I would be useless in life, that the only thing I had left was my beauty, so it didn't surprise me when, after beating me, he started saying all those things again.

I think the fact that verbal violence joined physical violence, however, was what marked me the most. He usually chose one of the two.

After beating me, he fired the maid because I had stolen the cookie. She had just had a baby, and I kept thinking about how she would leave our house with two kids in the middle of the night.

I felt very guilty and cried myself to sleep.

From that moment on, I learned not to trust anyone.

People smile and they can be nice when they want something from you, but that doesn't mean they're nice.

“I don't trust you,” I say, echoing my thoughts.

“You don't have to trust me, but what option do you have but to come with me?”He looks a little irritated now, and I have a feeling it's because he's not used to being toyed with.

I, on the other hand, don't like being manipulated.

I've struggled since I was little to understand how my father's mind worked, and I know that when something seems too good to be true, itusually is.

Despite this, for all the dread of leaving the island and the heartache of having to say goodbye to my animals, what will I do to survive if I refuse his proposal? There's still Naim. Who will defend me after Odin is gone?

And there's something else. If I'm being honest, there's a part of me that's excited about going to the States.

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