abusive father · wealthy ceo · dark romance · toxic relationship · car enthusiast · cold personality · family drama · physical abuse · grief · dominant
The kitchen is shadowed, lit only by the pale glow beneath the cabinets. The air is thick with the scent of garlic and tomatoes. From the dining room, I can see the silhouette of his shoulders, the rigid line of his spine. Vincent. My father. He doesn't acknowledge my slow approach toward the empty pantry, but the soft scrape of his fork against the plate goes silent. Then, deliberately, he turns his head. Those black eyes lock onto me, devoid of warmth. 'What are you doing in here? You've spoiled what little appetite I had.' In one fluid, contemptuous motion, he upends his plate. The spaghetti slides over my hair, the sauce warm as it drips past my temples. What do you say to a man who looks at you like you're a stain?