Chapter 137

Chapter 137
Richard Carter’s POV

The mansion is long silent, as its silence mocks me as I sit in the study, the sting of antiseptic sharp in the air, my head throbbing where Lily, my own daughter or so I thought, had bitten me like a feral dog. Blood crusts on my temple, as the doctor stitches sends a jagged reminder of her rebellion, her sharp words “You’re a monster!” echoing, is like a blade in my pride.

The room spins, as my hands shake with rage, my knuckles bruised from the blows I landed—Lily’s cheek, Mary’s ribs, their screams,I wanted to shut out but couldn’t control. They’re gone, fled like prisoners through the back door, Lily’s defiance, her clawing hands dragging Mary away, a betrayal that burns hotter than the wound. I’m alone, the mansion’s opulence, a cage, my power is fractured, my daughter’s rising bravery is a wound I’ll never forgive.

The doctor’s gone, his nervous “Keep it clean, Mr. Carter” dismissed with a snarl, his fear of me a flicker of the control I crave. I pour a liquor, the sharp hot burn in my throat is no match for the fury in my veins. Lily, my pure girl, turned whore, fucking that Manchester boy, Crew, her photos—his bare chest, her lip-gloss kisses, their sleepy selfie—exposed by my iCloud access, a secret I’ve held for years to keep her in line.

Her lie about Vermont, her “I’m volunteering” bullshit, was a slap, but her fight today, her nails, her bite, her “I hate you!”—that’s war. Mary, that weak bitch, enabled it, her useless whimpers helped her escape with Lily is an insult. I’ll make them pay, both of them, but Lily—she’s the one I’ll break, her rebellion, a fire I’ll snuff out, her life mine to end.

I pace, my shoes heavy on the hardwood, the memory of Lily’s defiance searing. She was my pride, my obedient girl, her purity, a trophy I guarded, her grandmother’s necklace—my mother’s heirloom—a symbol she defiled. Its absence from her neck, her “I lost it” lie, unleashed my fists, her blood on my hands a righteous mark. She gave it to him, that boy, I know it, her body his, her loyalty mine no more. I slam my glass at the wall and watch as the glass scatters, my roar echoing, raging out a beast I can’t chain. She’s my daughter, mine to mold, to punish, and she dared fight back, dared save Mary, dared run. I’ll find her, drag her back, kill her for this, her blood a lesson—no one defies Richard Carter.

My phone buzzes, as I ignore calls from work while I dial Victor, my trusted guard, his loyalty bought with money and fear, his voice gruff when he answers. “Boss?”

“Get in here,” I snap, my voice sounding fierce and demanding, and he’s at the door in minutes, his bulk body filling the frame, his eyes wild as he notes the stitches, the broken glass around the other side of the room. “Lily and Mary ran,” I say, my voice low,rough as my hands clench together. “Find them. Track their phones, their cards, every fucking move. I want eyes on them—now.” My eyes bore into his, my will iron. “Don’t touch them, just watch and observe. Report every step. They’re mine to deal with.”

Victor nods, his face hard, no questions asked. “Got it, Mr. Carter. I’ll have men on it now.” He hesitates, his eyes flicking to my wound. “You okay, boss?”
“Fuck off with that,” I growl, waving him out, my rage is a storm he knows better than to challenge. He leaves, the door clicking shut, and I’m alone again, my mind a battlefield, Lily’s face—bruised, defiant—taunting me. I pour another liquor, my hand is steady now, my vow fierce: I’ll kill her. Not quick, not merciful, but slow, her screams begging me, her rebellion crushed, the boy will be her end. Crew Manchester, that smug bastard, thinks he owns her, his necklace a claim I’ll rip from his throat, his life a price for her sin.

I think of Mary, her frail frame, her whimpers, her uselessness, a wife who failed to keep Lily pure, who fled with her, a traitor I’ll punish. Her bruises, her blood, were warnings she ignored, her escape I'll punish. I’ll drag them back, chain them, make them beg, but Lily—she’s the heart of this war. Her photos, her love, her body given to him, are a betrayal I saw coming, my iCloud a leash I tightened, her privacy mine to invade. I’ve watched her for years, her texts, her photos, ensuring her obedience, but she slipped, her love for him a crack I’ll widen until she breaks.

My head hurts as I touch the stitches, Lily’s bite had left a mark of her betrayal, her strength a shock I didn’t expect. She was my doll, my creation, her fear of my fists a chain, but today, she fought, her “You won’t touch her!” a declaration I’ll make her regret. I imagine finding her, my hands around her throat, her eyes wide, her breath gone, her boy’s screams distant. I’ll kill her, my daughter, my disgrace, her rebellion, a lesson for all—no one crosses me, not my blood, not my wife, not that boy.

I sit, as I drink the liquor as I whine slowly at its burning, as I form my plan. Victor’s men will find them, their every move mine to know, their freedom a fleeting illusion. I’ll hunt them, with all my power, my empire, a tool to crush them. Lily thinks she’s free, her love for that bastard that she feels is a shield, but I’ll shatter it, her body, her spirit, hers to lose. Mary’s weakness, her flight, will cost her, but Lily’s defiance, her bite, her fight, is a sin I’ll punish with death. The mansion’s silence is my ally, my wound a badge, my vow a blood oath—I’ll kill her, my daughter, for daring to rise, for daring to run, for daring to be anything but mine.