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“I can do this, Ark. You can trust me to know how much I can and can’t handle.”
Confident I am seconds from losing my battle not to touch her, too enamored by the sturdiness of her backbone not to react, I stuff my hands into my pockets before telling her everything I know.
“My team is still working through some facts, but from what we have gathered, your father was blackmailing Dr. Babkin for years before his death.” She doesn’t speak, move, or blink. She remains perfectly still. “He paid him two million dollars over a three-year period while you were under his care and for several years after it ceased.” Her chest expands with a deep breath when I say, “Dr. Babkin was disinclined to pay once you…became of age.”
I wish I was better with my words, but it is a struggle to speak and not want to go on a rampage. Anger is burning through me, making it hard to do anything but flex and unflex my fists.
I am only achieving the impossible because I need Mara to know why I did what I did. I need her to know I didn’t have a choice. Protecting her and Tillie was my only priority—it still is.
“Your father wasn’t as willing to let things slide. He continued blackmailing Dr. Babkin until his death… and then he went after the money the courts set aside for his daughter.”
Mara’s hand shoots up to cover her mouth. “Dr. Babkin had a daughter?”
I nod. “Yes. She is around a year or two older than Tillie.”
Her eyes search for answers to the question she doesn’t want to ask.
When she fails to get any, she proves how strong she is. “Did he…?”
She exhales a sigh, and in an instant, I know why I reacted the way I did while standing across from the man who was meant to protect her and failed.
Tears flood Mara’s eyes when I confess, “Your father tried to blackmail me. He said he would release footage to the media that would hurt you if I didn’t pay him three million dollars, thus not only outing your abuse for the world to see but the method of Tillie’s conception as well.”
She swallows past the lump in her throat to ensure her words are clear while asking, “Did you pay him?”
She gasps in a sharp breath when I nod.
It is released in a hurry when I murmur, “Then he noticed Tillie in the image that brought him to my door, and everything changed.”
I move to my desk to gather the photograph that has given me more heartache than any of the scars I amassed in my childhood and hand it to Mara.
“I knew.” I force my words through clenched teeth. “I knew the instant he looked at that picture what he had done to you. I could see it in his eyes, smell it on his skin. I saw the monster hiding deep inside him, and I knew he would hurt Tillie the same way if ever given the opportunity. He…”
I stop when I choke on my words, and then shake my head in anger while recalling the gleam his eyes got when he taunted me about getting Tillie’s guardianship placed under his name.
“It wasn’t love in his eyes when he looked at her. It was lust. It was predatory. He wanted to hurt her.” I shift, needing to see her eyes when I confess to my greatest sin to date. “It happened so fast. I didn’t realize what I was doing until it was too late. Ikilled him because I’d rather he be dead than contemplate what could have happened if he were ever near Tillie.” I fall to my knees, my breaths coming out in a quiver. “And I would do it again in an instant if it were the only way I could protect her. I couldn’t let him hurt her like he had hurt you. I just couldn’t.”
“Ark…” She stares at me like she is truly seeing me for the first time. I’d hang my head in shame if her look gave me any indication that she is ashamed or frightened of me.
Her watch isn’t pronged with fear.
It’s spiked with admiration.
After mirroring my pose, Mara lifts her shaky hands to my face. We share the same air when she brushes away a salty blob on my cheek I didn’t realize was there before she bands her arms around my back. After tucking her head into my neck, she whispers her thanks into my ear on repeat until I stop believing that I am the villain in her story and start seeing myself as the hero.
45
MARA
An uprising of emotions hits me at once when a shadow casts over the doorway of the room I’m settling Tillie in. The spare room closest to Ark’s bedroom has a soft and inviting palette—ifyou exclude the inclusion of numerous Australian soap star posters tacked to the walls.
Ark’s design team replicated Tillie’s room to perfection. If it weren’t triple the size and caked with that new furniture smell I’ve not experienced in years, I’d swear I was back in our apartment, slumming it with the less fortunate.
I don’t mean people with no funds in their bank accounts.
I mean the people who don’t have a love money can’t buy.
I’d be worried Ark’s request for us to spend the night was a mistake we couldn’t come back from if I weren’t aware how brilliantly smart he is. Barring a random photograph of two commuters sharing a cab fare, we have no known association before my father attempted to blackmail him.