Page 39 of Broken Princess

Her father looks just as shocked for a moment, but he recovers quickly enough. "Is that so?" he asks.

“Yeah," I answer. "It is."

He scoffs. "And would that change if you knew the baby isn't yours?"

There are few things he could've said to catch me off guard, but that is definitely one of them. All I can do for a moment is stare, processing his words. And what they mean.

He knows about the baby. I don't know how, other than assuming Amelia told him, but why?

I would've assumed he was just fucking with me, trying to get a rise out of me, if it wasn't for the way Amelia looks like she's shrinking in on herself, her arms folded over her middle. She won't meet my eyes, either.

"What the fuck do you mean, the baby isn't mine?" I demand. "And since when do you know?"

"That's really none of your concern," he answers. "And I mean just what I said. But you don't have to take my word for it. Tell him, Amelia."

I look back over at her as her father waits expectantly. My throat is tight, and I'm having a hard time formulating a single thought that is rational or consistent.

"Amelia?"

She starts to speak again, but this time, it comes out as a strangled sound. She grimaces, pain in her eyes along with unshed tears as she finally meets my eyes.

Dread wells up inside me as she hesitates, like she's summoning strength to say whatever it is she needs to tell me.

"I'm sorry," is all she says, her voice cracking.

"No," I say through my teeth, shaking my head. "No, this is bullshit.”

I stalk toward her and past him before he can stop me. I grab her by the shoulders, gently, but I need to make her look at me. I need her to tell me the truth.

"He made you say this," I accuse. "I don't know what he said, or what he threatened, but it doesn't matter. I'm going to take you away from this place. All you have to do is say the word."

Tears are slipping down her cheeks, but the resignation in her gaze unsettles me more than anything.

"I'm sorry, Lorenzo," she repeats. "I lied. When you found me, and you said you knew I was pregnant, I wasn't sure what would happen if I told you the truth."

Everything in me—heart, mind, and soul—rages against what she’s saying. I don't want to believe it. Any of it. And yet, all the hesitation in her voice is gone now.

My hands fall away, and I back up, feeling a confusing flurry of emotions when I'm used to feeling next to nothing.

Except around her, of course. She's capable of eliciting the best and worst from me. Extremes on either end I never even imagined I was capable of feeling.

Confusion is chief among those feelings, but not for long. Hurt soon wins out, followed by rage. I'm not even sure it's directed at Amelia, because I feel so much of it toward her father, there's hardly room for anything else.

"Who?" I demand, looking back at her.

She swallows audibly and looks away. That's enough of an answer.

"Stefan?" I ask with a dry laugh.

It's funny in the way only fate can be. Funny and twisted and cruel. Like this moment is somehow a punishment for every sin I ever committed, all catching up with me in this one, poetically ironic moment.

Once again, Amelia is silent.

"Of course," I mutter, stepping back from her. The rage pouring off me in waves is caustic, and even now, I don't want her to get tainted by it.

Her father, though…

If I stay here another moment, I really am going to put his head through the wall.

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