Page 105 of Penance

“I… I’m sorry, Dad,” she whispers. “I never meant for this to happen.”

“Never meant for this to happen?” he growls at her. “Mercy, you’re a grown woman. You know how babies are made.”

“I-it was an accident,” she whimpers.

It wasn’t.

I bred her on purpose.

Over.

And over.

And over again.

“It’s a bastard is what it is!” he spits at her.

That’s it. That’s all I can take.

I can feel the anger rising in me, and if I let it go on much longer, I’m liable to reach across this table and snatch him out of his seat.

“It’s mine,” I snap, narrowing my eyes at him.

He fixes me with his eyes, but I don’t waver, and I don’t flinch away.

“Excuse me?”

I hold his gaze.

“It’s my baby. I’m responsible for this.”

Mercy looks at me, blinking hard.

“I can take care of her,” I say. “Iwilltake care of her.”

“You expect me to believe that you will do right by my daughter? A little lying heathen like you?”

I don’t flinch, don’t react to the venom in his voice. Instead, I lean back in my seat and fix him with a calm, collected smile.

“I have an inheritance, more money than Mercy could ever need. I’ll buy her a house, and I’ll buy the baby everything they need. She and the child will be well taken care of.”

His lips curl into a sneer.

“Money isn’t everything, Killian. Mercy needs stability. She needs support and love. The child she carries needs to grow up with God in their heart, and I don’t expectyouto know anything about that.”

“I have the means to give Mercy a comfortable life. Neither her nor that baby will want for anything.”

Mercy shifts beside me, her breath coming in short, shallow gasps. She looks pale, her eyes wide and glassy. She looks like a cornered animal, and for a second, I’m afraid if I reach out and touch her, she’ll bite the hand that, literally, feeds her. She pushes her chair back, the legs screaming against the floor.

“I… I need some air,” she sputters.

I watch as she clutches her stomach protectively, her knuckles so white that the dress she wears almost looks brown in comparison. She walks away, her steps quick and uneven—jerky. Once she’s out of earshot, I turn back to her father, and I’m not calm anymore.

I’m serious.

I’m pissed.

“Mr. Clarke,” I begin. “I understand your concerns. But I assure you, I have only the best intentions for Mercy and our child.”

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