Anyone would go to those lengths to spare their daughter from the wrath of this man sitting on this throne in front of me.
“Hmm,” he murmurs.
I look up into his eyes. “Please … Father. Have mercy on your only daughter.”
The word father brings a foul taste to my mouth, and it makes me want to rinse it out with soap.
I know Emmy’s watching me, and that she’s probably judging me right now. She knows who I am, where I came from, and she knows I would never see a man like him as my father.
But she must realize my predicament, right? I can only hope she won’t tell a soul about the real me … and that she’ll do the same for me as I did for her.
“It seems you’ve learned to embrace humility as part of our community,” the president says after a while.
“Yes, Father. I understand my mistake now,” I say, nodding while trying to ignore the obvious gawking coming from Emmy’s direction. “I promise you, I won’t ever try to do something like that again.”
I’m lying through my teeth.
I would give anything to escape again, even my own kidney, but that won’t save me now.
“No, you won’t,” he says. “In fact, I presume Noah had something to do with your scheme, so he will be punished as well.”
My eyes widen. “What? No. He fought hard to keep me here.”
He raises his brow. “Is that why he took so long to bring you back? Why I had to jump in and get you myself?”
I swallow away the lump in my throat. I have two choices … rat him out and try to make it out again … or save him like he saved my mother. He hated her guts, yet he pulled her from the fire and got hurt himself.
The choice is simple.
“I was the one who kept him from taking me back,” I say, clutching my hand near my chest. “I was confused … because of my pregnancy.”
The president glares at me as though he expects a better answer.
“Please, don’t hurt him. He tried his best to get me back safely,” I add.
His Adam’s apple moves up and down. “You do realize I know that he knew you were my daughter, right?”
I break out into sweat.
“He purposely kept information from me,” he says. “That alone is punishable with death.”
Even Emmy gasps now.
“He only kept it secret to protect me. Because I didn’t remember my past, he wanted to introduce me to it slowly, so I wouldn’t panic,” I explain. “And it worked. I fell in love with him.”
When I say those words, Emmy looks at me in shock.
“I became his, and we made a child, together. He planned to tell you right after, but then …”
“You ran,” he fills in for me.
“Don’t let your grandchild grow up without a father,” I say, shaking my head. “No one deserves that.”
He mulls it over for a second. “You’re just like your mother.”
I don’t know what that means … or whether it’s even good or not.
He sucks in a breath and stands. “Very well. You’ve convinced me.”
A sigh of relief escapes my mouth.
“But …”
Too soon.
“My grandchild belongs here, in this community as part of a loving Family,” he says, his eyes narrowing. “You will not leave this property ever again. Should you try, you’ll have the blood of your husband and your child on your hands, do you understand?”
I gulp, then nod. It’s a definite threat. One I’m sure he’d make happen if push ever came to shove.
He smiles and sits down again, tapping his fingers together. “Good. Then we’re done here.”
Noah
When someone finally knocks on my door, I immediately open it, hoping it’ll be my salvation from being locked away in a room. “Yes?”
“The president wants to have a word,” the elder says.
I follow him as he traipses downstairs and toward the wing underneath the staircase, where we go into his auditorium. This room is usually only used for occasions when we’d need to speak to the crowd of people and invite them inside to take a seat, but that’s a rare occurrence. Why would he bring me here? Unless … he means to put me on the block in front of everyone to make an example out of me.
But as I walk through the big doors in the back, Natalie passes me, and we look each other in the eye without saying a word. One simple glance says more than a thousand words ever can.
The president wanted a word with her too. I wonder what he had to say … and if she ratted me out to save herself.
I won’t blame her if she did. It’d be the safest option for her. She’d survive. Our child would live. But I would perish, and she knows.
I can only hope she said what she needed to say.