The party had already started that evening, but my mom was still nowhere to be found. I was worried and kept asking Aunt Grace if she had left me again, but Aunt Grace reassured me that she would be home soon.
Stephen, my assistant for the day, kept following me everywhere. Suddenly, he called my attention.
"Kendra?" he said, staring at the door.
"What's wrong?" I asked, turning towards where his gaze was fixed— and there was my birthday gift walking in.
It was my dad!
"Daddy!!!" I screamed, tears streaming down my face. My legs froze; I couldn't move.
"Come to me, my angel," he said with a smile, walking toward me.
I ran with all the speed I had and jumped into his arms.
"Daddy, you came for my party," I said, still hugging him tightly and crying.
"No, angel. I came home to be with you forever," he replied with a smile.
"What?"
It was then I realized I had become the center of attention. Everyone had stopped dancing and was staring at Dad and me. I decided to save the questions for later. The party was cozy and beautiful, and when it was time for Dad to give me a gift, he surprised me with a Benz. I was thrilled, but at the same time, a little suspicious. Why had he come back home? I needed to know.
Two hours after the party, it was already past midnight when I finally had the chance to talk to Dad. I ran downstairs, filled with curiosity.
"Dad," I called as soon as I entered the sitting room.
"Yes, my angel. Sit down—Daddy wants to talk to you."
At those words, uneasiness washed over me.
"I'm all ears, Dad," I said, though fear was already rising inside me.
"Kendra," he began, staring at me intently, "Daddy's business is failing, and you're the only one who can help me. There's a man willing to rescue me, but he wants you to marry his son."
The bomb dropped. My whole world shattered.
"What do you mean, Daddy? I just turned eighteen, and you want me to marry some old freak?" I asked, my voice trembling with anger and fear.
"He's not old, Kendra. He's just twenty-three," he said casually.
"Twenty-three?! Daddy, is this why you came back? Is this why you and Mom returned—to persuade me into marrying a pedophile?" I screamed in rage.
"Hey, young lady! That's no way to speak about your husband. And for your information, your mother doesn't know about this yet," he snapped, clenching his fists. I was terrified, but I still had to speak.
"Daddy, you're wicked! Are you even my father? How can a man sell off his only child just because of business? I am not marrying anyone!"
"You fool!" he shouted, his eyes blazing with fury. "I am not asking for your opinion. You will marry him, and that's final. Prepare yourself!"
"And who's getting married?" I suddenly heard my mom's voice from the doorway.
"Mom!" I cried, running into her arms with tears streaming down my cheeks. "Daddy wants me to marry a business partner's son. Do you know about this?"
"What? Hills!!!" my mom roared, turning to my dad. "Answer me!"
"Prepare your daughter for married life," my dad said coldly, sipping his drink.
"Over my dead body will I allow you to sell off my daughter!" my mom shouted back.
Paa! A resounding slap landed on her face.
"Go ahead and hit me, Hills! I've endured your torture for the past twenty years. You even separated me from my daughter for years, and now you want to sell her off? Never!" my mom cried, tears streaming down her cheeks.
My heart sank. What? Dad is a violent man? Mom has endured all this pain just because of me? All this time, Dad was the problem.
This was pain—raw, unending pain.