Page 112 of Vengeful Vows

I dip my chin, too choked with emotions to speak.

“Very well.” He breathes out noisily, silencing everyone. “Under Section 272, if a person has assaulted another or provoked an assault from another, and the victim believes they need to use force to defend themselves or they will be killed or seriously harmed, the victim is not criminally responsible for the consequences.” I lose the ability to breathe when he says, “However, in the case presented before me, there is no evidence that the victim caused grievous bodily harm to Ms. Palkova?—”

“This time, your honor, but what about the multiple other times!”

The judge acts as if my attorney didn’t speak. “And as such, I am under no obligation to accept the claimant’s claims that the act was under the pursuant of self-defense.” He pushes his glasses up his nose before peering down at me. “Your pledge of guilt is accepted by the court, and as so, I order a three-year non-probationary period to be served at a medium-security prison.”

He whacks down his gavel, sending the court-goers into a frenzy.

I’m shocked but also relieved.

Three years is nothing compared to how many wonderful years Tillie has left to live, and I suffered almost daily abuse for far longer than that, but how could the judge have read my files and not understood why I would fear for my life while standing across from my father? Ark understood from nothing but a glance. That’s why he killed my father. He knew if I were in the same predicament, I would have done the exact same thing.

He saved me that night as much as he did Tillie.

That’s another reason I’m taking the blame for his crime.

“Mommy,” Tillie whispers in confusion when the bailiff commences moving me back toward the dock before I get to say goodbye.

“It’s okay, baby. Everything will be okay.”

She’s upset and crying but mercifully being comforted by the man I know is never capable of hurting her.

Ark bobs down to Tillie’s level to wipe away her tears and whisper promises in her ear. He’s shockingly calm. I shouldn’t be surprised. The lengths a parent will go to safeguard their child is remarkable, second only to how honorably they love them.

I’m pulled partway through the dock’s door by a correction services officer when his steps are thwarted by a raised voice. “Can I please approach the bench?”

I can’t breathe when Detective Pascall bursts through the swinging doors that separate the court from the pews like permission was given. I haven’t seen her since I invited her to Ark’s apartment to hear my confession. Her presence wasn’t necessary, but I needed her to hear my confession in person. Its impact wouldn’t have been anywhere near as effective if she had read it on a piece of paper.

I needed her to identify the signs of abuse so she could make sure her daughter holds none of them.

“Ms. Pascall, the hearing is over,” the judge says. “Any chance for rebuttal shall be saved for if the defendant chooses to appeal my verdict.”

She nods as if familiar with court proceedings before wetting her lips. “It is important, your honor.”

“It very well could be, but you have no jurisdiction here. The verdict has been handed down and already implemented.”

When the judge gestures for the court officer to remove Detective Pascall from the courtroom, words shoot out of her mouth like bullets. “She didn’t kill the man you found her guilty of murdering, your honor.” The courtroom gasps in sync when she says, “I did.” She shoots her eyes to Ark standing motionless with Tillie before she slowly trails them back to me. “I followed you to his hotel. He was bleeding and a little woozy”—she makesa gesture with her hand that shouldn’t say as much as it does—“but he was still breathing.”

The hurt in her eyes exposes that she isn’t thinking about my father right now while recalling the scene she witnessed. Someone far more important is occupying her thoughts.

My heart sinks when recognition dawns as to the true cause of the pain in her eyes.

Oh god.

She found out too late.

She found out about her child’s abuseafterher daughter took steps to make it stop.

When I step closer to her, one mother desperate to comfort another, she holds her hand out, pleading for me to stop, like she doesn’t deserve my sympathies.

“I met your father shortly after Luba’s death.” She sucks in a pained breath that she releases with a sigh. “He never disclosed your connection. He just said he had footage that proved I was there the day Luba died and that it could expose the true cause of his death.” She spins to face the congregation as if they deserve more answers than me. “Luba’s life insurance policy wouldn’t have paid out for suicide, so when my unit was called to the motel, I made it seem as if he had been murdered. He owed a lot of people a lot of money, so it wasn’t a hard stretch.” Her eyes return to me. They’re wet and somewhat honest. “But they took it all, anyway. Every cent. I would have gone under?—”

“If it weren’t for my father?” I murmur, recalling how he kept people’s suspicions low by killing them with kindness. He had everyone fooled. Doctors, nurses, my teachers. Everyone believed that he was an admirable man.

Sanya nods, snot dribbling from her nose. “He made out you had been syphoning Luba’s bank account for years by threatening to tell me about your relationship if he didn’t pay up. He never disclosed the rest, and I never questioned him about itbecause…” She’s too ashamed to admit her reason. No one wants to admit they fell in love with a monster.

“I heard what he said to you when he learned he had a granddaughter.” I picture the agony Ark went through when she whispers, “In an instant, he went from wanting money to wanting her.” The disgust in her tone announces she heard the need in my father’s tone as readily as Ark did. “When I confronted him about it, he became abusive. He hit me and told me my daughter’s death was my fault. I snapped.” Her eyes flicker as if this part of her story is a true confession. “I pushed him. He hit his head on the corner of the bar in his room on the way down.”

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