Revenge Is A Daughter's Sweetest Dish

, but my one-word answers quickly killed the conversation. I stared out the window of hi

ry penthouse apartment." The doorman, dressed in a crisp uniform, greeted my father by n

ated. He had no idea he was dealing with a soul who had already been crushed by his negligence once and had no int

, and floor-to-ceiling windows that offered a panoramic view of the

f it, as if she were the mai

r of a winter sky. She was wearing a simple but obviously expensive silk dress. She didn't smile

she said. Her voic

ifton said, rushing to her side and kissing her cheek. He was lik

he announced, g

ty, as if I were a piece of furniture that had been unexpectedly delivered. "Hello, Blake

e," my father prompted, a

led, keeping my e

e cut with a knife. My father, sensing the a

!" he said, using a childhood n

a sleek, modern bar, pouring herself a glass of wine. Her

ing assets. The original paintings on the walls, the designer furniture, the state-of-the-art kitchen. This was a world away

y business after my grandfather' s death and had clearly be

This is Karel' s studio," h

lean scent of turpentine. A half-finished painting stood on

everence that bordered on worship. "Her family... well, they destroyed her c

ghting the wrongs of the past. It was a romantic fantasy h

stine white wall. I wanted to destroy something, to mar the perfect, sterile beauty of th

the last door at the very end

a storage room or a small office. It had no window, only a si

tly styled hair. He had the grace to look slightly ashamed. "We... w

ht I would throw a tantrum. A no

a normal fou

floor. "It' s fine," I said, my vo

exactly how to use it. His reli

"Look, I know this is an adjustment. I' ll... I' ll increase your allowa

less than that. The number registered in my brain not as a luxury, but as a

said, my v

h money. It was the only way he knew how. He backed out of the r

t, leaving me alone

uffled sounds of my father' s laughter from the livin

ear-old girl, smooth and unblemished. But I could still feel t

d his blood, his name. I was living in his house, accepting his mo

l. But most of all, in th

ap and scrubbed my hands, scrubbing and scrubbing until the skin was red and

se. The stain w

or. My face was pale, my eyes wide an

ney. And every single cent would go to my mother. I would build her a new lif

n. He thought he had

Trojan horse into his city. And I would