I sat out on the deck while Roman and the agents situated my dad into one of the guest rooms. I stared up at the cloudy sky and did my best just to breathe. It was bothering me how dark my thoughts had gotten about my father, hoping he would die in jail. I knew it was emotionally understandable, but it didn’t sit right to me. No matter how cruel he had been and how awful of a father he would always be, I knew I was better than him. At the very least morally.

My thoughts and feelings were twisted and tied into a jumbled mess. Something in my gut was telling me to talk to him. Talking to him would reaffirm what it was I was supposed to feel. If he managed to be kind and showed some sort of remorse, even if it was just in the face of being charged with the crimes he committed, maybe there was some good in him. Maybe, just maybe, he would actually repent and become a better person.

It seemed like a far-fetched idea to me, or like the idle fantasies of my younger self. When I was little, I longed for him to be better, to be loving and fun. It never came. I knew I would never have a relationship with him that wasn’t founded in his abuse. Still, I needed to talk to him for my sake, not his.

Walking back into the house, I passed by Roman as I headed to the elevator. "What room is he in?" I asked him.

Roman’s brows drew together. "You’re going to go talk to him?"

"I have to," I sighed. I watched as his face carved into a look of deep concern and worry. I pulled him in and pressed a kiss to his lips. "I’m okay. I just... I need to see the man he is now that he’s having to face the consequences of his actions. See if there’s any bit of a human in there, or if he really is a monster."

"I’m afraid you won’t like the answer you find," he whispered to me as we hugged.

I squeezed him tighter. "Me too, but I just... I don’t know. I think I need to for closure sake. To know if it was just the money and power that got him to be the way he is, or if it’s just who he is."

"I’ll walk you to the door. I’ll give you privacy but I want at least one of the agents to be outside the door," he said.

"Deal," I agreed.

Pulling back from the hug, we held hands and took the stairs. We could have taken the elevator, but I needed some time to gather my thoughts before I walked into that room. I needed to know what to say to him. Would he beg for forgiveness? If so, would it only be in hopes of getting to my emotions so I would maybe testify in his defense? I doubted he was diluted enough to believe that, but I suppose anything was in the realm of possibility since he would be facing years and years in prison. He would likely want any sort of out that he could possibly get, even if it meant sacrificing his pride.

Yeah, right. My father, put his own pride on the line? I doubted that would ever, ever happen. If it hadn’t that day, it never would.

Eventually, we were approaching the door and the agent whose name had slipped my mind eyed us both. "She wants to talk to her dad," Roman explained. "I’m going to give them some space, but please don’t leave your post."

"Of course," the agent replied.

I turned to my husband and looked at him in search of confidence. He leaned in and pressed a kiss to my forehead. "Remember, you owe him nothing. Leave when you’re ready to leave. I’ll be in the bedroom waiting for you," he spoke softly.

"Thank you," I breathed and gave him a kiss before facing the door.

I flexed my hands, clenching them into fists and unfurling them again and again as I took deep breaths. It was then or never, I wasn’t sure I would ever work up the courage or the motivation to drag myself to a prison to see him. After giving a quick knock on the door, I let myself inside. He sat at the foot of the bed, his hands folded in his lap. He suddenly looked so... old and frail to me. Never before had I really taken notice of my father’s aging. I guess, somehow, he had frozen in age in my childhood mind, forever seeing him as the angry tyrant that would storm into the house at night and begin making his demands.

Then I noticed the cuff about his ankle. I suppose they really weren’t taking any chances of him running. "Can we talk?" I asked him softly.

"Do you think I have anything else to do?" Court replied in a snap.

My jaw set in place. "Are you really going to be an ass when I came up here to see you? I didn’t have to, you know."

"Then why did you?" he snorted and averted his eyes. "It’s your fault I’m in here to begin with."

"You can’t seriously think that," I gawked.

He was silent, and I could see the stubbornness in his face, even though he wasn’t looking directly at me. No, he didn’t believe that; he just wanted to. I anticipated a fight, nonetheless, knowing he wasn’t one to back down until he beat everyone into submission verbally. There was no such thing as having a different opinion in the Maclaster family. There was only Court Macalester’s word.

"What is it you want to talk about?" he asked, his voice still dripping with annoyance and sharpness.

His tone could have offended me, but it didn’t. Instead, I was stunned. He didn’t drag it out or turn it into anything it wasn’t. He was continuing on.

It was then I realized it wasn’t that my dad looked incredibly old, it was the first time I ever saw him defeated. Maybe there was good in him after all. I doubted it, but maybe the good was just a glimmer. Would that be enough?

"I wanted to see how you were doing. I know it must be hard but," I muttered.

Before I could finish my thought, he cut me off. "Golly jee, Hannah, I’m doing just swell," he remarked sarcastically before waving me off with a hand. "Don’t even act like you know what I’m going through. You’ve never been facing life in prison."

"I don’t know what you’re going through?" I repeated to him. He nodded and I laughed bitterly. "Really? You couldn’t see at all how I would understand the impending doom of your freedom being completely gone, in a new and possibly dangerous environment, and at the whim of the powers that be?"

"You were being sold off as a wife to billionaires," he huffed. "As long as you were agreeable, you were always going to have a life of luxury and pampering. You can’t possibly compare that to prison."

"It’s only luxury and pampering if you choose it. If you don’t, it’s a sentence. It may not be cinderblock walls and muah for food, but it might as well be. Had anyone but Roman purchased me at that auction, I wouldn’t have enjoyed it. I would have been miserable. And I was never going to be a wife, even if that would have been my title. No, I was going to be a slave in any scenario because it would have been my body, my time, and my life that was being used. A wife is meant to be a partner. Or maybe you’ve forgotten that, considering how you treated mom," I barked at him, my hands balling into fists.

I watched his shoulders deflate and his face drop. His eyes locked onto the floor. "Please, let’s not talk about her."

I blinked. Never had my father uttered the word please to me in a sincere manner. Nor had I ever seen him appear so soft at the mere mention of my mother. Was it possible that, at least when it came to her, the woman who had stood by his side all those years no matter how awful he was to her, he had remorse?

I didn’t have a response to that, and suddenly I felt awkward and maybe even a little bad that I had mentioned her at all. "I just want to know whether or not you have remorse for what you did to me and how you’ve always treated me," I finally stated, mustering up every little fiber of courage I had in me.

He stiffened his spine and finally, after all the time of me standing there, Court Maclester locked eyes with me. "I have always done what I thought was best for the family," he stated.

I let the words sink in. I dissected them, chewed on them, and digested them. Maybe there could be some redemption in his future, but I knew that day wasn’t it. He was still the self-centered tyrant he had always been. "You never did what you thought was best for the family, you did what was best for you," I corrected and turned to the door.

Before my hand could touch the knob, he called over, "Wait." I paused, but I didn’t turn to face him. "Can you please send Lori? I would like to see her."

"Absolutely not," I stated firmly. "You’ve poisoned and hurt this family enough. I hope you atone for your sins in jail and realize the damage you’ve done."

Finally, I left the room and shut the door behind me. Even with the agent there watching, I leaned back against the door and took a deep breath. Maybe seeing him had been a stupid idea, but at least it helped me see him for who he really was. He was selfish and self absorbed. Maybe in time he could change. Right then, however, I knew he was out of reach of help.

After thanking the agent and learning his name was Alex, I headed to the bedroom. I gladly climbed into Roman’s arms for comfort. Sleep would escape me that night, haunted by the knowing that my father was in my house.