While My Daughter Died, Her Alpha Father was with Her

“I’ll never apologize to someone who manipulates people like you do, Patricia.”

Patricia’s face hardened, and Kelvin’s grip grew even more painful, but I held my ground.

Patricia put a hand on Kelvin’s arm, giving him a sad, sympathetic look. “Kelvin, just let her go,” she said, voice soft and pitiful. “I don’t want to see her like this. She’s still my sister, and I care about her so much.”

Kelvin looked at her, his expression softening. “Are you sure? She doesn’t deserve it, Patricia.”

Patricia nodded, giving a small sigh. “I don’t know why she hates me so much, Kelvin. I’ve always tried to be there for her.” She turned her teary eyes to me, her voice all sad and shaky. “Lucille, I really don’t understand why you treat me this way. I’ve only ever wanted the best for you. You’re my sister.”

She looked like she might cry, playing her part perfectly. Anyone else might have believed her, fallen for the whole innocent act, but I knew better. The way her lips just barely twitched, the glint in her eye she couldn’t quite hide—it was all a show.

Kelvin dropped his arm, looking at me like I was the problem. “She’s reaching out to you, Lucille, and this is how you act?”

My chest burned with frustration. “You really don’t see it, do you, Kelvin? You don’t see how she plays you—how she plays *everyone*.”

Patricia gasped, her hand over her mouth like I’d hurt her with my words. “Lucille, please,” she whispered. “I just want us to be close again. You were my best friend…”

I wanted to scream the truth, to make him see her for what she really was, but I knew it was pointless. Patricia had him wrapped around her finger, and no matter how much I tried, she’d made sure I’d only look like the villain.

AI let out a bitter laugh, shaking my head as I took a step back. “You know what? I’m done with this little game. “Believe whatever you want, Patricia. If lying about me helps you feel better about yourself, go right ahead.” I turned to Kelvin, feeling the sting of his betrayal like a knife. “But you, Kelvin… you don’t deserve to know the truth anymore.”

He frowned, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

I took a deep breath, letting the weight of it all sink in. “It means I’m done. I’m done trying to prove myself to someone who never wanted to believe me in the first place.”

I reached into my bag and pulled out the photos from Lyra’s funeral. My hands were shaking as I held them up, the images flashing in the light.

“Here!” I said, throwing them at him. The pictures scattered across the floor, images of the casket, of me standing alone by her grave, of Lyra's tiny, fragile body surrounded by flowers.

Kelvin’s eyes widened as he looked down at them, his expression faltering. “What…?”

“Proof, right?” My voice was sharp, biting. “That’s what you wanted, isn’t it? Proof that she’s gone? There it is. Look at it, Kelvin. Look at what you missed.”

He didn’t say anything, just stared at the photos in shock. For once, Patricia was silent, her face pale.

“I buried her alone,” I continued, my voice hard. “While you were having the best time of your life with your mistress!” I shot a look at Patricia, who had the decency to flinch. “You didn’t care enough to come back, and now you’re standing here, accusing me of doing something to her?! Wow.”

Kelvin looked away, “Lucille, I… I didn’t know.”

“Of course, you didn’t,” I said, my tone softening, but only a bit. “Because you didn’t want to know. Because you’d rather believe her lies than face the truth.”

He opened his mouth to say something, but I held up a hand, stopping him. “Save it, Kelvin. I’m done listening!”

I turned toward the door, feeling lighter, freer than I had in years. As I reached for the handle, I heard him take a step toward me.

“Lucille, wait.”

I stopped, but I didn’t look back. “Why should I?”

“Can we… talk about this?” His voice was softer, almost pleading. “I didn’t realize—”

I let out a bitter laugh. “No, Kelvin. You didn’t realize, and that’s exactly why I’m leaving. There’s nothing left to talk about.”

“Fine!” Patricia snapped, breaking her silence. “Go, then. Run away, like you always do.”

I finally turned to face her, giving her a look that could cut steel. “Oh, I’m not running away, Patricia. I’m setting myself free.” I glanced at Kelvin, my gaze steady. “Good luck. You’ll need it with her.”

Kelvin’s face twisted in frustration, “Then why didn’t you tell me she was gone? Why didn’t you call? Or at least send a message? My God, Lucille, our daughter died, and I had to find out like this?!”

Our daughter?

Pff.

I laughed sarcastically. “Are you serious? I called you, Kelvin. I called you so many times. I sent messages—hundreds of them. But you never answered. You never responded.” I turned a glare to Patricia, my jaw clenched. “Or should I say, *you never got them*?”

Kelvin’s brow furrowed. “What are you talking about?”

“Oh, come on, Kelvin.” I glanced at Patricia, whose face paled slightly. “Ask your precious Patricia where your phone was. Ask her why she ‘helped’ you by making sure you were out of reach. Ask yourself why you’re an irresponsible father! And ask her why you missed your own daughter’s last request while she dragged you off on some ‘emergency’ vacation.”

His face twisted with confusion, then anger, as he looked at Patricia. “Is that true?”