Chapter 75 - SEVENTY FIVE

Chapter 75: Chapter SEVENTY FIVE

ANGEL

I stared at him in disbelief, "I don’t need a therapist."

"Thirty-minute sessions. Four times a week." He continued as if I hadn’t spoken.

"Are you listening to me?" My voice climbed into something shrill and frantic. "I said I don’t need one!" I snarled at him.

"This isn’t a negotiation, Angel."

"When did you decide this?" I threw the covers off and swung my legs over the side of the bed. "Was it before or after I stuffed candy up my pussy in your living room?"

The words landed exactly where I aimed them. Vincenzo’s expression didn’t change, but I saw the micro-reaction—a brief tension through his shoulders, there and gone.

"I’m trying to help you, Angel." His voice was cold. Stern. "And if going outside to meet those so-called friends of yours is going to result in what happened today, I’d rather keep you locked inside this house. For your own safety." His eyes held mine without wavering.

"You’d lock me in? You can’t do that!"

"You can hate me for it. You already do. But at least you’d be alive. So get ready, your session starts tomorrow. I’ve made the arrangements."

He wasn’t going to budge. His determined expression made that clear.

"Those aren’t my friends." My voice had shrunk without permission. "And I don’t want a therapist."

Vincenzo looked at me, but his gaze didn’t soften, not even an inch. "I don’t want you to do this too, but I won’t watch you destroy yourself further."

My eyes stung. Sharp and prickling.

The tears broke through without warning, I wasn’t performing, but I couldn’t pinpoint why I was crying either. There wasn’t anything to break in my room... so, I just broke.

Vincenzo crossed the room in three strides. His hands found my shoulders—firm— as he guided me back until my knees hit the mattress.

I sank onto the bed and he sat beside me.

He didn’t hold me nor did he offer any comforting words.

Minutes passed and my sobs thinned.

Only when my breathing evened out and the rawness in my chest dulled into something heavy and tired did he break the silence.

"How did you know people like that?" His voice was quiet. There was no accusation, it almost sounded genuine like the way he used to ask me about my day when I came home from school a lifetime ago.

"I used to go there with a friend." My voice was scraped hollow. "Kelvin."

Vincenzo cursed under his breath. A low, vicious sound. "How did I not know about this?"

I felt it twist my face into something bitter and sharp. "You were too busy making babies with Jillian to notice."

The name landed like a grenade between us and it stirred my interest again. Why was my beloved Mommy dearest? She wasn’t anywhere in this mansion. Did she go on a vacation or something while Vincenzo tried to play Daddy with me?

Vincenzo spoke again, breaking through my thoughts. "The friend they mentioned. The one who survived. That’s Kelvin?"

My head snapped toward him.

The tears dried on my cheeks so fast they might never have existed. I stared at him—and the pieces rearranged themselves in my skull with a click so loud I was surprised he couldn’t hear it.

"You know," I said slowly. "You know exactly what happened in that shop."

He said nothing.

"That’s how you knew what the candies were." My voice was climbing again, raw and incredulous.

"You heard everything? How?" I ran my hands down my arms. Then, checked behind my ears. "Where is it? What did you put on me? A microphone? A tracker?"

"Your phone," Vincenzo said simply.

I stared at him. My phone. The one he’d given me as a gesture of trust and normalcy.

"You bugged my phone so you could listen to my conversations." The laugh that left my mouth was mean and laced with sarcasm. "Father of the year."

"I need to know you’re safe."

"Safe?" I laughed scornfully. "Like Kelvin is safe? Lying in a hospital bed with a crushed throat because of me?"

Vincenzo’s eyes narrowed. "What?"

"Was that part of the plan when you gave me to Damien? Clean house first—get rid of the girl’s little friend so she’s got nobody to run to?"

"I didn’t order anything done to anyone." Vincenzo’s voice hardened. Steel beneath velvet. "I’m your father, Angel. I would never hurt you."

"You’re NOT my father!" The scream tore from somewhere primal. "My father is DEAD because of people like you! You’re just the man who kept me in a pretty room until you got tired of me and traded me away!"

"I didn’t trade you." His voice was still calm, but something was building behind his eyes now.

ANGEL

"You sent me to that island! You let them take me! You knew what they were going to do and you let it happen!" The words were pouring out now, scalding and uncontrollable. "My parents—even if they did something wrong, even if they betrayed everyone, why did I have to pay for it? I was a child, Vincenzo! I was YOUR child and you sent me to be sold!" I was crying now, my chest heaving. My veins pumped with venom so thick I felt it would kill me.

"And then I found something." I inhaled raggedly. "With Damien, I found someone who wanted me. Who chose me. He made me feel like I was the most important thing in the world. And you couldn’t stand it. So you burned him alive and dragged me back here to this—this pink fucking tomb—"

"Angel—"

"I DIDN’T ASK TO BE SAVED!" The words ripped out of me so violently my throat burned. My chest was throbbing, my lungs felt as though it was on fire as pain and rage fueled through my veins. "I was HAPPY. For the first time since you threw me away, I was happy, and you destroyed it because you couldn’t handle someone else having what you gave up!"