Nancy is our daughter, who has needed a heart transplant since she was a child.
Despite living with me for years, John knew exactly how to manipulate me by using my weakest points.
But these people were my family. Even if he threatened me with Nancy's life, it wouldn't work.
"No way!" I struggled violently.
John sneered, "Emily, don’t reject a friendly gesture only to accept a harsh penalty later. Kneel and apologize. Then, we can pretend none of this happened."
I refused to kneel.
Annoyed by my defiance, John’s tone grew even colder,
"Emily, apologize, final warning."
"John Garcia, you’re dreaming!" I retorted.
Seeing that I wasn’t moving, John’s eyes reddened and he signaled the bodyguard with a glance.
Pale and trembling, I was lifted by the bodyguard.
"John, you can’t do this to me... You killed my family, desecrated their graves, and now you want me to apologize to their killer!"
John ignored me and stubbornly repeated,
"Emily, kneel and apologize."
His voice shook slightly,
"Don’t you want Nancy to have a chance at a healthy life?"
At that moment, John seemed utterly foreign to me.
Maybe he was always manipulative, but he’d never had to use it on me before.
Now, he was forcing me into humiliating submission just for an apology.
Why? He didn't even love me.
I stood firm, refusing to apologize to my abuser.
What's the justice in forcing a victim to apologize to their abuser?
John’s face turned pale, his body shook slightly—he knew he was losing me.
But his pride wouldn’t let him admit his mistake.
"Do it," he ordered.
Following his command, I was forced to my knees, crushing the last shred of naive hope I had.
Suddenly, John's phone rang. He answered, and his breath caught.
His assistant hesitated on the line,
"...Mr. Garcia, Miss Davis’s family has passed away one after another from HPV complications, just a week after you left the country."
John’s grip tightened, "What did you say?!"
The assistant, trembling, added,
"But don’t worry, the only dose was used on Nancy, and she’s not in danger for now."
After hanging up, John barely dared to look at me, his voice hoarse,
"Emily, I...I really didn’t know."
The bodyguards released me, but I was too exhausted to move, lying on the ground defeated.
John squatted down and reached for my hand, but I slapped him hard.
He looked away, flinching, but still tried to touch my hand again.
"Emily, I will get them the best resting place... just calm down."