I was never a virtuous woman. My past was shrouded in darkness, marked by a series of nefarious choices. I embraced a certain malevolence, engaging in deeds that would be deemed unfit for a person of virtue. Yet, my malevolence was selective, reserved for one individual – Katherina. She, in stark contrast, embodied beauty, kindness, and gentleness – qualities that constituted everything which attracted Ian. Ian, the one who imprinted upon me, laying claim with a dismissive label of mistake.

At times, an inexplicable desire to emulate Katherina seized me, as if by mirroring her style, I could garner a fraction of Ian's attention. I pondered, what did she possess that eluded me? A three-year-long relationship shouldn't crumble so easily. Despite Ian reducing our connection to mere physicality, I couldn't help but feel it was unjust. Even if his affections for her were a mistake, I didn't covet him for his wealth; I desired him for who he was.

Perhaps it was the allure of his frigid demeanor or the calming effect of his pheromones that stirred my emotions. There was something about him that kindled the flames of my affection. Yet, his heart blazed solely for Katherina.

"Is this your daughter, Jonathan?" inquired Callistos' lawyer, abruptly pulling me back to reality.

It had been a week since Mom's funeral. Surprisingly, the day didn't unfold as disastrously as I had anticipated. The party came to an abrupt end with just one sentence, "My lawyers are going to discuss matters with you; till then, Awalia is going to live with us."

Without wasting a second, I grasped Uncle's hand, giving it a little swing to signal it was time to leave. Old man Callisto and my second uncle didn't accompany us. The feeling of unsafety prompted First Uncle and me to depart. I pondered over Mom's decision – if she had been collecting evidence, why did she choose suicide over fighting Dad? The possibility to commit suicide because of the omega punishment, the burn, loomed large. It was said to be worse than death, yet she endured it almost every day.

Years might have passed since I last heard her agonizing screams, but the haunting memories persisted. Mom would scratch her neck where Dad, Jonathan's mark was, and cry out, questioning why she deserved such torment.

I, too, had the same question – why did Jonathan do what he did? If he had another child of my age, doesn't that mean he was with the other woman while dating Mom? As far as media reports went, Jonathan and Mom had a love marriage.

Bringing me back to the present, Jonathan sighed, scratching the top of his nose, "Yes, that's my daughter, Katherina."

Old man Callisto's expression darkened. He wasn't pleased with the news. The fact that Jonathan didn't even attempt to deny it spoke volumes. From what I remembered, Katherina was the apple of his eye. He hadn't hesitated to destroy me when I tried to harm her.

"What are your plans for taking care of Awalia?" Old Man Callisto asked.

Silence.

Was that a difficult question? No.

The silence conveyed his intention of not giving thought to how to parent me.

"If the Callistos take custody of Awalia, are you going to fight?" This time, First Uncle asked, clenching my hand a bit.

Jonathan's dark brown eyes met my ocean blue eyes. "No," he didn't flinch as he continued, "I would rather appreciate it. Whatever property she is entitled to according to the law, coordinate through lawyers. I will take a leave."

Is that it? Did I escape him that easily? Are you serious? I mean, I know he doesn't even give a damn about my existence, but this? This is inhuman.

"You lied." The words slipped through my lips before I could even control them.

I remembered a scene from years back when I asked him a question to soothe my younger self.

"Dad, Mom says you hate us? Is it true?" A cute little girl, five years old, with dark brown hair and ocean blue eyes, holding a teddy bear, expecting the truth. She understood why her mother cried in secret, praying to God for hope. When curiosity led her to ask her mom why she cried during prayers, she replied because her dad hated them, and he didn't want them.

"No," Michael replied coldly, thinking it was a very normal reply to a child's question.

LIE!

"You lied that day!" My voice rose a little. People in the room looked, some with concern and some like Jonathan unbothered. "I asked you," tears sliding down my cheeks, "I asked you whether you hate us. Hate me. And you said no."

I know he's a sinner, a murderer, a worthless scam in the name of a father. But he was a father. He was my father. Even though I was always invisible and unlikeable to him, I expected something from him. A tiny bit of attention. A shred of concern. Something from him that shows I am wanted, needed.

"Why do you people even give birth to children if you're just going to abandon them?"

"Cecil can answer that question. After all, she knew I rejected her. I rejected you," he paused for a moment, "It's sad that she isn't here to answer your questions."

The nerve of him to mention my mother!

Was it because of my broken soul that it was getting hard to control my feelings, or was it because I am now a seven-year-old kid that I can't handle such situations emotionally? I heard those words multiple times from Ian. "I reject you." Such a phrase might sound and look normal, but it's like a death sentence to marked omegas. And a stab to the soul for those like me who loved their Alpha wholeheartedly.

I couldn't feel my uncle's hug. I was just not feeling anything but pain. I am an adult! Damn it! Don't be an embarrassment.

Jonathan, with one look, turned around to leave. "I wish it was legal to kill parents like you." I muttered with hatred.

Those words went loud enough for everyone in the room, sounding as venomous as they meant.

Why was I overreacting if someone thinks so? It is because, after all, he was the one who shot me three times in the chest without any hesitation, with that disgusted look in his eyes after successfully ruining my dignity.