Chapter 2He Killed Our Daughters For Her

I knew the truth, of course. Those men at the academy were monsters, yes. But they were just the final instruments. The one who had personally delivered my daughters to that hell was Ethan.

The true architect of their deaths wasn't a stranger. It was their own father.

Sophie’s shoulders slumped. After a long moment, as if making a monumental decision, she whispered, “Okay. I’ll go talk to Grandfather.”

As I watched her leave, a sob finally broke through the numbness, a raw, ragged sound that carried all the pain of the last seven years. I cried until there was nothing left inside me.

I came to the Lockwood estate when I was eight, the same age as Ethan.

My grandfather and his, Arthur Lockwood, had served together in Vietnam. My grandfather saved his life on the battlefield, forging a bond of blood and honor between them. After my parents died in a car crash when I was a baby, my grandfather raised me. When he passed away eight years later, Arthur Lockwood brought me here, into his home.

To his credit, he and Sophie had always treated me like family. They were kind, generous, and loving. They made me feel like I belonged.

It was because of them that I stayed. For seven years of marriage, no matter how Ethan treated me, no matter how much of a bastard he was, I stayed. I built a home for him, bore his children, and managed his life.

I had accepted that he would never love me. But I thought that with my two beautiful daughters, my life would still have meaning.

Now, all of it was gone.

I don’t know how much time passed before Sophie returned.

“Grandfather wants to see you.”

When I entered his study, Arthur Lockwood was sitting in a heavy wooden chair by the window. The look in his eyes was one of profound sorrow.

“My dear girl,” he said, his voice raspy with age and emotion. “You are a good girl. Sophie told me everything. You’ve suffered too much these past years.”

He paused, taking a deep breath. “The cremation is tomorrow. After it’s done… you should go. That boy of mine doesn’t deserve you. He shouldn't be allowed to waste another day of your life.”

I said nothing. I simply walked before him and bowed deeply from the waist.

As I held the bow, tears dripped from my face onto the polished hardwood floor. I was grateful, so deeply grateful, for the twenty years of shelter and kindness this family had given me.

But I could never, ever forgive Ethan. I could never forgive the man who had murdered my children.

When I returned to my room, Ethan was already there, waiting. A smirk played on his lips.

“Well? Didn’t take you long to run to Grandfather and tattle, did it? Reagan, do you honestly believe that just because you have him and Sophie wrapped around your finger, I’ll ever want to be a real husband to you?”

The sight of him ignited a hatred so potent it was suffocating. I wanted to kill him. I wanted to send him straight to hell.

But then, I heard their voices, soft and sweet in my memory.

“Mommy, I love Daddy so much. He’s the most handsome dad in my whole preschool.”

“Mommy, we miss Daddy. Is he coming home to see us today?”

“We love you the most in the whole world, Mommy. And we love Daddy second most.”

Even in their last moments, as I held their broken bodies at that godforsaken school, the last thing they whispered to me was: “Mommy… don’t be mad at Daddy because of us. It was our fault. We were bad…”

I took a sharp breath and walked past him to sit on the edge of the bed, saying nothing.

My silence seemed to infuriate him. He grabbed me, throwing me back against the mattress and pinning my wrists above my head.

“What’s this new act?” he sneered. “You had Sophie call me, begging me to come home. And now you give me the silent treatment?”

He lowered his face to kiss me. I couldn’t break his grip, so I did the only thing I could. I bit down on his lip, hard.

He yelped in pain, releasing me and scrambling back.

“Reagan! Are you out of your goddamn mind?”

He wiped a smear of blood from his mouth. “This pathetic act is exactly how you manipulate Grandfather, isn’t it? Beg me to come back and then play these stupid games. It’s pathetic.”

He stood up, his face a mask of disgust. “It’s because of this fake, innocent bullshit that the girls are so…”

“The girls are dead,” I said, my voice quiet and steady, cutting through his tirade. I could taste my own blood where I’d bitten the inside of my lip.