Page 19 of Cinderella and the Daddy

I know that’s the wrong move.

You never look an angry beast in the eyes.

"You'll learn," he whispers, his breath warm against my ear, "that betrayal has a price. Don't make me teach you."

Then he's gone, leaving me shaking against the wall.

I don't cry. Not while he might still be watching. I don’t know how I manage, but I walk to the door he’s left open.

I close it, but don’t bother locking it.

Clearly, locks don’t mean shit in this place.

I grab a pillow from the bed and scream into it until my throat is raw and my voice gives out completely.

Mac jumps onto the bed, his warm body pressing against my side. He licks the tears from my cheeks as I sob into his fur, clinging to the only constant I have left in this fucked-up world.

There has never been any love lost between Drew and me. He gave me away. I wasn’t his to give.

I wake to the soft creak of my bedroom door.

I stiffen, my whole body going into fight-or-flight mode.

I will fight to my death.

I open my eyes and, through the soft light of dawn, I see Leo's small silhouette slipping inside. His bare feet are silent on the hardwood floor as he approaches my bed, clutching something against his chest.

Mac's tail thumps once against the mattress in greeting, but he doesn't lift his head from where he's curled against my side. Smart dog knows when to stay quiet.

"Cindy?" Leo whispers, his voice barely audible. "Are you awake?"

“I am. Are you okay?”

“I got scared.”

I shift over to make room. He climbs up beside me without waiting for an invitation. He settles against my shoulder. Whatever he's holding crinkles softly—paper, maybe a drawing.

"You're not bad like they said," he murmurs into the darkness.

My throat constricts. "Who said I was bad, baby?"

"The men. They were talking in Russian, but I understand more than they think." His accent makes the words sound older than his six years. "They said Papa was foolish to trust you. That you would betray him like everyone else."

I close my eyes. Leo doesn't understand the complexities of what happened yesterday, but he knows something shifted.

"I'm not bad," I whisper, pressing a kiss to the top of his dark head. "But I made a mistake."

"Papa makes mistakes too," Leo says matter-of-factly. "Big ones. But he's still good inside."

The simple faith in his voice breaks something inside me. This kid has seen horrors I can only imagine, yet he still believes in redemption. Still believes people can be good despite their mistakes.

I hold him closer. "What did you bring me?"

He unfolds the paper between us. It’s one of his drawings. Even in the dim light, I can make out three figures standing in front of a house. A tall man in black, a woman with long hair, and a small boy. There's even a dog at their feet.

“It’s us,” he whispers. “Our family.”

The word barely leaves his mouth before it breaks something open in me.