I briefly checked my makeup in the mirror and hurried from the room. Father stopped me in the hall. His gaze raked over my red bodycon dress and strappy silver heels.
“Please tell me that’s for Richard.”
Forcing a smile, I said, “Of course it is. We’re going out for dinner. Might even do some dancing.”
Father bobbed his head. “Just because you’re dressed like a slut, try not to act like one.”
I swallowed the snarky comment on the tip of my tongue. It was more to get the hell out of the house than to be right. Unfortunately, a new set of sassy words shot out of my mouth.
“It’s too late for that. Besides, I think Richard has a thing for whores. We both know that his father does.”
Instead of a slap, my throat tightened, and I couldn’t speak. My vision dimmed as my back hit a nearby wall. Hot, stale breath hit me as Father’s face stopped inches in front of my nose.
“Keep it up, Peyton.” He squeezed. “I won’t hesitate to have you thrown in a padded room. People will soon forget you ever existed.”
Forget the future. I just wanted to live for another few minutes. I clawed at Father’s hand as his grip grew tighter. Tears came to my eyes, but he held me in place. The bastard wanted to prove who was in charge.
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