No Longer Their Daughter

I clutched the towel but didn't wipe my face, letting rainwater mix with blood and drip onto the floor.

"Mom, I was kidnapped for three days."

My mother's eyes flickered. "I know, but your dad was thinking about the bigger picture. You know the Howes can't bow to criminals."

The crowd parted as my father, Nelson, walked over, a glass of red wine in his hand.

He looked me up and down without asking about my injuries, his face dark as a storm about to break.

"Why did the kidnappers let you go?"

The question echoed through the hall.

"They got what they wanted," I said flatly.

Nelson's pupils shrank. He assumed I had paid a ransom, and his anger flared instantly. "Who told you to give them money? I said no ransom, for justice! Did you agree to something you shouldn't have?"

His gaze slid over my torn clothes, his voice rising and sharp with malice. "Or did you let them sleep with you just to stay alive? The Howes can't afford that kind of shame."

Whispers rippled through the guests, their looks turning knowing and ugly.

Lilith hid behind him, peeking out with an innocent face and delivering the final blow. "It's okay, Alexis. What's important is that you're alive. Things like purity don't really matter. We're family. We won't look down on you."

In just a few sentences, I went from victim to family disgrace.

I stared at these well-dressed relatives, my stomach twisting violently.

Last time, I had died a horrible death, just to protect their dignity.

This time, all I wanted was to rip that skin clean off them myself.

-

The next morning, the Howe estate exploded.

Nelson smashed his favorite antique vase in the study.

Ten million dollars in dirty money had vanished. It was his escape fund, the money he had set aside to pave the way for his illegitimate son.

The trail led to an offshore laundering account. He didn't dare call the police and could only swallow the loss in silence.

He suspected the kidnappers, but even more, he suspected me. But he didn't dare ask, because if he did, it meant admitting the money was dirty.

He came downstairs with a black expression and saw me sitting at the dining table, quietly eating oatmeal.

I wore gloves to hide my missing finger.

"Get yourself ready. There's a media interview this afternoon," Nelson ordered, his tone absolute. "Say the kidnappers were intimidated by my sense of justice and let you go on their own. You'll cooperate and help solidify my image as a champion of the rule of law."

He desperately needed good press to cover the hole in his finances. He was also running for trade council chairman.

I set my spoon down and said nothing.

"Did you hear me?" He tapped the table impatiently.

"I heard you, Father."

The stylist arrived, dusting powder on my face to hide the bruise at the corner of my mouth. They also told me to take off my gloves and change into a sleeveless dress.

I refused. "My hand's injured."

My mother yanked the lace glove away and forced it onto my left hand, rough and impatient. She hit the wound, and pain broke out so hard that cold sweat poured down my back.

"This will do," she warned. "Your father's about to be evaluated for trade council chairman. This is a critical moment. Don't ruin the big picture over a tiny injury. Lilith was so worried about you, she couldn't sleep last night. So what if you suffered a little physical pain?"

To them, Lilith losing sleep mattered more than my missing finger.

At the interview site, cameras flashed nonstop.

Nelson hugged me tightly in front of the lenses, his eyes wet with tears.

"As a father, my heart aches," he said. "But in the face of justice, I had to set an example. Thankfully, good triumphs over evil, and my daughter has returned, safe and sound."