Chapter 3 - THE FATHER I HID
I had not seen my father in person for nearly three years.
Not since the week before my wedding.
He looked older.
His hair had become almost entirely silver.
Deep lines framed his mouth.
But his hand around mine felt exactly as it had when I was a child.
Strong.
Steady.
Safe.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered.
“For what?”
“For not calling sooner.”
His eyes filled with pain.
“You never apologize for surviving.”
The paramedic moved beside us.
“Sir, we need to leave.”
My father nodded.
“I’m going with her.”
A federal agent stepped forward.
“Chief Justice, we need to evaluate the security situation.”
“My daughter is the situation.”
He climbed into the ambulance.
Before the doors closed, he looked toward David.
David stood on the porch with Sheriff Reed beside him.
Sylvia remained behind the window.
My father’s voice carried across the driveway.
“Do not allow either of them to leave.”
The ambulance doors shut.
As we pulled away, my father kept one hand around mine.
The monitor beside me beeped rapidly.
The paramedic listened for the baby’s heartbeat.
His face did not reassure me.
“What’s wrong?”
“We’re seeing fetal distress.”
My father’s grip tightened.
“Can you stop it?”
“We’ll do everything we can.”
My eyes filled with tears.
“I should have left months ago.”
My father looked at me.
“Why didn’t you?”
I turned my face toward the ceiling.
“Because I was ashamed.”
“Of him?”
“Of myself.”
The words came out broken.
“I thought I was smarter than this.”
“I thought I would recognize abuse before it became my life.”
My father leaned closer.
“Anna, intelligence does not make anyone immune to manipulation.”
“He said you would be embarrassed by me.”
My father’s jaw tightened.
“He said the Court could not survive a scandal involving my marriage.”
“That is why you stopped answering my calls?”
I nodded.
“He told me he had connections inside the press.”
“He said if I left, he would release private medical records and claim I was unstable.”
My father closed his eyes briefly.
“When did he begin hurting you?”
“The first year.”
“Physically?”
“Not at first.”
I told him about the money.
The insults.
The locked doors.
The way David checked my phone.
The way Sylvia called me an orphan because I refused to discuss my family.
My father listened without interrupting.
Then the fetal monitor changed.
A sharp alarm filled the ambulance.
The paramedic reached for the radio.
“We need the trauma team ready.”
My father’s face went pale.
I gripped his hand.
“Dad.”
“I’m here.”
“What if I lose her?”
He looked directly at me.
“Then we will carry that grief together.”
The ambulance turned sharply into the hospital entrance.
Doctors were waiting.
May you like
As they rushed me inside, one of them shouted a sentence that made my father stop breathing.
“We may need an emergency delivery.”
