It took hatred. Violence.
Vengeance.
A daughter’s touch, even if Dad never trusted me with such responsibility.
“You can’t leave,” I said. “And you’re not moving to the Bennett Estate.”
“Your mother made her choice,” Darius said.
My chest heaved with a lost breath. “You don’t speak for her. You made the choice for her.”
His eyes darkened, thick with treachery and lacking the basic human qualities that separated man from mud. “It seems I must do that often with Atwood women.”
Nicholas still said nothing, brushing his hand against mine when I stepped forward to face the monster.
“She isn’t going,” I said.
Mom sighed. “Sarah, I respect the sentimentality, but really. You haven’t been home for so long. You wouldn’t understand. I want to be with my husband, to enjoy the time I have left.”
Limited time if she dared to trust a man like Darius Bennett.
“Please, Mom. I’m asking you to reconsider.”
“There’s no discussion. I won’t be lonely anymore, and I won’t leave Darius all alone in his big, drafty house.”
He smiled as if he could comprehend the gentleness behind the emotion. “It isn’t drafty, love.”
“Too big. Ostentatious.”
“I’ve always wanted the best for my family.” He nodded Nicholas. “For all of my sons.”
Sick, depraved bastard. My breathing ached, and every exhale stuck in my throat. Not what I needed.
Not a weakness I should have ever shown Darius.
“Sarah, my dear. You really should sit.”
I hated that tone. The false sincerity. The sing-song pretention of a demon pretending to be a father. I bit back the profanity.
Darius aimed for the kill.
“Someone in your condition shouldn’t be rushing around all hours of the morning.”
Son. Of. A. Bitch.
“What condition?” Mom worried too easily. “Sarah, is it your asthma again?”
“Yes,” I answered before Darius could. “But I’m fine.”
“Now, now.” His voice cracked like the snap of a belt over broken skin. “Sarah, this is your mother. She’ll understand.”
Mom was agitated again. She stood, burning her hands as the coffee spilled over her mug. I rushed to offer her a towel. Her eyes dulled, but she stared with that same fierce gaze I remembered as a child, when she found the hidden midterm I stashed under my bed revealing the accidental D in my eighth grade Algebra II course.
“Sarah,” she warned. “I have endured you stomping through this house, snapping at me and dishonoring my husband, your step-father. I will not tolerate you keeping secrets from me about your health. I am your mother. At least permit me the common courtesy to not speak in riddles while you stand around my kitchen table without even offering to get your brother any coffee to drink.” She exhaled. “Honestly. You have the mannerisms of your father sometimes. It’s like I’m looking at Mark.”
“Mom, it’s fine.”
“Don’t you it’s fine me, young lady. You think you know what’s best for me, but until you have a child of your own burst in and out of your life whenever she damn well pleases, you don’t get to decide what is best for me.”
“I was worried.”
“You don’t have to worry about me,” Mom said. “I have Darius now.”
Just the thought curdled my stomach. “You don’t understand.”
“He’s your father.”
“He’s not.”
Darius shrugged. “Our relationship is hard to classify, Bethany. Sarah acts defiant, but, I assure you, when we’re alone, she’s much warmer. We’ve spent some very special moments together.”
Sick bastard.
I wavered. I needed to sit. I wanted to run.
I longed for the chance to cause Darius even a moment of the misery he inflicted on me.
“A relief,” Mom said. “She’s been acting so strange lately. I don’t know what’s gotten into her.”
Darius folded his hands. “Sarah, perhaps it is best that you tell your mother.”
“Tell me, what? For pity’s sake, Darius. Is everyone keeping secrets?”
Why was he doing this? Just to watch me squirm? To destroy me? To destroy her?
I swallowed. Mom gave me her most expectant look, one that even Josiah and Mike couldn’t fight.
He planned this.
The bastard knew I’d rush home. He meant to trap me once more in my own humiliation as I revealed the pregnancy to Mom.
I considered refusing him, but my dress already felt snug. I could hide it for another month, maybe two, but she’d find out soon enough. And then she’d suffer the consequences the same as me, the same for the farm, the company.
Our future and livelihood.
But she was my mother.
And the father of my baby might have been her devoted husband.
Darius’s expression hadn’t wavered, the twisted empathy of a man who faked every human emotion to benefit himself and his cruelty. I wouldn’t let him gain any sick enjoyment from my hesitance. He expected me to live in shame of the child, of the rape.
The baby wasn’t his.
And the rape was in the past.
And I would never, ever let my child believe he was unwanted—not when I knew exactly how devastating that felt.
“Mom…” I wished my voice were stronger. “I have something to tell you.”
She waited. Her eyebrow perked—sass incarnate. So that’s where I got it.
“I’m not sure you’re going to like it.”
“Out with it, Sprout. I haven’t got all day.”
The words tumbled from my lips.
“I’m pregnant.”
Darius’s victorious grin sickened me. I stepped closer to Nicholas, but I didn’t accept any of his offered strength.
I survived the conception. What pain could the announcement bring?
More than I expected.
Mom’s expression twisted. Her frown etched deep into her face, darkening her new wrinkles and highlighting the grey that streaked her curls. She sunk into her chair, hands trembling.
“You’re pregnant?”
“Yes.”
I steeled myself for her reaction.
It wasn’t enough.
“You little whore.”
The disapproval rocked us all. Darius coughed. I fell backwards, colliding with an equally shocked Nicholas.
“Mom, no…”
“Little whore.”
Darius cleared his throat before leaning close. “Bethany, no. This is a good thing. Our Sarah is starting a family of her own. We should be celebrating.”
I didn’t recognize the frustration in her eyes, the harsh catch in her voice.
Oh God, I couldn’t handle disappointing her, even when it wasn’t my fault.
“Sarah, how could you be so careless? I raised you better than this.”
Careless?
She wasn’t the only one who’d assume it was carelessness.
Not that I was kidnapped and imprisoned, abused and raped.
Not that my step-father forced himself upon me, or that the man I loved, my own step-brother had…
It wasn’t carelessness.
My chest ached, blending sorrow and panic and stinging rage into a breathless gasp.
The world would never know that darkness.
“And the father?” Mom asked. “Where is he? I don’t see him standing here, holding your hand, admitting what he did to you.”
Nicholas was holding me. Darius stroked her fingers.
“This isn’t about the father,” I said. “It’s still early, Mom. I haven’t revealed it yet.”
“Oh, Sarah.” She shook her head. “There is so much to consider. Have you spoken with our attorney?”
I hedged that concern. “We don’t need to tell Anthony yet.”
“Of course we do. This company will turn on its head.” She covered her cheeks. “Oh, Lord. This will cause such strife. We hadn’t prepared for this at all, Sprout.”