Heavy, aggressive footsteps pounded against the stone behind me. Before I could stand up, a shadow fell over me. It was my father, Richard. His face was a deep, mottled red, flushed with a mixture of expensive scotch and unadulterated fury.
“You are useless!” my father screamed, his voice booming over the quiet whispers of the crowd. He didn’t care who heard him. He was performing for Mark and his wealthy friends, proving that he wouldn’t tolerate this kind of embarrassment. “I told your mother we shouldn’t have let you come! You can’t even control your bastard child for one evening!”
I scrambled to my feet, stepping protectively in front of Lily, shielding her small body with my own. “Don’t you dare call her that,” I said, my voice shaking with a fierce, protective rage. “It was an accident. I will pay for the dry cleaning—”
“Pay for it?” my father laughed, a harsh, ugly sound. “With what money? You’re a parasite!”
He raised his hands. I saw the movement, but my brain couldn’t process that my own father would strike me in front of two hundred people. I braced myself for a slap.
Instead, he placed both of his large hands flat against my shoulders and shoved me backward with all of his formidable strength.
The force of the shove lifted me off my feet. I lost my balance entirely. My arms flew out, instinctively wrapping tightly around Lily, pulling her against my chest to protect her from the fall.
We tumbled backward through the air.
SPLASH!
The freezing, chlorinated water of the massive, decorative stone fountain swallowed us whole. The shock of the cold water knocked the breath from my lungs. I hit the shallow bottom hard, scraping my elbow against the submerged stone, but I kept my grip on Lily.
