While My Daughter Died, Her Alpha Father was with Her

Kelvin didn’t look at me as he helped Patricia to the couch, setting her down with a gentleness I’d never known from him. He knelt in front of her, his eyes soft, his touch tender as he adjusted her sling. I felt like an outsider in my own home, watching them like I was invisible.

I’d always known he was distant, that he never fully belonged to me. But seeing it so plainly, knowing how easily he replaced me, hurt more than anything.

As I watched Kelvin tending to Patricia, a painful memory crept into my mind, sharp as a blade.

I remembered the nights I’d been sick, weak and alone in that same house. Days when I could barely lift my head, let alone take care of Lyra. And where was Kelvin then? He was nowhere to be found—never there to hold my hand, bring me medicine, or offer even a moment of comfort.

It was Lyra who’d tried to help, her tiny hands holding a glass of water up to me, her worried eyes watching over me in ways a child never should have to. And as I looked at Kelvin now, doting on Patricia like she was made of glass, the unfairness of it all tightened in my chest until I could barely breathe.

Seeing him with her, it was painfully clear—he never wanted to be there for me, even when I needed him most.

Without another word, I took my suitcase and left but…

I hadn’t even reached the door when Patricia’s voice slid through the air like poison.

“You know, Kelvin,” she drawled, clutching her sling as if she was still in pain, “Did you know that Lucille’s always been jealous of me? Obsessed with her ‘perfect little family.’ So desperate for control… even over her own daughter.”

I paused, feeling the heat crawl up my neck. “What are you talking about, Patricia?”

She raised a brow, her mouth curling into a fake, concerned pout. “I never said anything, but… I saw you, Lucille.” Her eyes flicked to Kelvin. “I saw her putting things in Lyra’s food, her milk. She wanted Lyra to get sick so she’d have an excuse to play the grieving mother and got your attention.”

Kelvin’s head snapped up, his eyes narrowing at me. “Is that true?”

“Are you serious?” I laughed, but it was forced, shaky. “Kelvin, do you hear yourself?”

Patricia gasped, putting a hand over her heart as if I’d wounded her. “Lucille, I watched you poison your own daughter! And now you’re trying to play innocent?”

I marched over to her, my fists clenched at my sides. “Stop making up stories, Patricia! Or you'll regret it.”

Patricia let out a soft, pitiful whimper, glancing at Kelvin as if she were the victim here. “Kelvin… do you see? Do you see what I mean? She’s unhinged.”

“Unhinged?” I repeated, my voice cracking. “I didn’t know I had a snake for a sister! One who spins lies just to steal her sister’s husband!”

But Kelvin’s expression was ice cold. “Funny,” he said, crossing his arms. “Patricia has no reason to lie. But you? You’ve always been… extreme.”

“Extreme?” I couldn’t believe it.

Patricia leaned forward, sneering just enough so Kelvin couldn’t see. “You always wanted people to feel sorry for you, Lucille. Everyone knows you love to play the victim.”

“You—!” The words tangled in my throat, replaced by a surge of white-hot rage. I raised my hand, and before I knew it, I’d slapped her. Hard.

Patricia’s face snapped to the side, her hand flying to her cheek. She let out a dramatic cry, collapsing into the couch, clutching her face like I’d broken something.

“Kelvin!” she wailed, tears welling in her eyes. “Did you see that? She hit me!”

Kelvin was on me in seconds. He slapped me hard across the face, the force sending me stumbling backward until I hit the floor. My vision blurred as pain exploded across my cheek, my nose starting to bleed. I held my face, staring up at him in shock.

“What is wrong with you?” he snarled, towering over me. “Patricia just got back from the hospital, and you slap her? She’s been nothing but good to you!”

I steadied myself, gripping the floor to keep from falling apart. Kelvin’s glare drilled into me, and Patricia’s smug smile only made it worse. The anger I felt burned through every part of me, but I forced myself to stay calm.

“Nothing but good to me?” I repeated, pushing myself to stand. “Are you really this blind, Kelvin? Or do you just enjoy playing along with her little act?”

“Lucille, don’t start,” he snapped, folding his arms. “You’ve caused enough trouble tonight!”

I let out a hollow laugh. “Oh, I’m causing trouble? I’m the one causing trouble?” I shook my head, looking from him to her. “Patricia knows exactly what she’s doing, and you’re letting her. But you know what? I don’t care anymore.”

Kelvin’s gaze darkened, his voice cold. “Apologize to Patricia. Now. On your knees.”

“Apologize? To her? Wow. Why would I?”

Without another word, Kelvin’s hand shot out, gripping my arm in an iron hold. He yanked me forward, dragging me toward Patricia. I stumbled, struggling to keep my balance, but he didn’t loosen his grip.

“You’re going to do it,” he snarled, pulling me right in front of her. “And you’re going to mean it.”

I glared at Patricia, who was smirking through her crocodile tears. Her satisfaction made my stomach churn, but I swallowed hard, refusing to let them see me break.

“Apologize!” Kelvin ordered, his grip tightening painfully on my arm.