The visit
1444 Words
MILLIE'S POV
The prison smelled like disinfectant and despair.
I was here to pay the man they called my father a surprise visit and it wasn’t going to be a pleasant surprise.
Callie sat in the waiting area, her presence a silent comfort. She'd insisted on coming, probably afraid I'd break down or do something I'd regret.
She didn't need to worry. I was past breaking, but she’d have none of that.
The guard led me through a series of locked doors to a small visitation room. Grey walls. Metal table. Two chairs bolted to the floor.
And there he was.
Raphael Harvey. My father.
He looked smaller than I remembered. Thinner. His hair had gone completely grey, and there were new lines carved into his face. The expensive suits were gone, replaced by an orange jumpsuit that hung loosely on his frame.
For a moment, I almost felt sorry for him.
Almost.
He looked up when I entered, and his eyes widened. "Millie." His voice cracked. "Millie-Rose, you came."
I sat down across from him, my expression carefully neutral. "Hello, Father."
"I can't believe you're here. After all this time. I thought…" He reached across the table like he might try to grab my hand.
I pulled back.
His face fell. "Millie, please. I know you're angry, but…"
"I'm not angry," I interrupted. "Anger implies I still care enough to feel something."
He flinched like I'd slapped him.
"I just came to tell you something," I continued. "And then I'm leaving. And I'm never coming back."
"Millie, wait. Please, just listen." His voice took on that pleading tone I remembered from childhood. "I'm sorry. For everything. I know I made mistakes, but I'm your father. I love you. I always have."
I stared at him.
"You love me?" I repeated slowly.
"Yes! Of course I do. You're my daughter…"
"Then why did you sell me?" The question came out calm, almost conversational. "Why did you put me in front of cameras at the age of four? Why did you sign contracts in my name and take every dollar I earned?"
"I was trying to provide for our family…"
"No." I cut him off. "You were trying to fund your reckless habit. Your affairs. Your lifestyle."
His mouth opened and closed. "That's not fair…"
"Fair?" I laughed, bitter and sharp. "You want to talk about fair? Was it fair that I never had a childhood? That I was working twelve-hour days while other kids were playing? That you took the money my mother left me and spent it on your mistress?"
"Sabrina is my wife…"
"Sabrina is the woman you cheated on my mother with!" My voice rose despite myself. "The woman who was pregnant with Martha while my mother was still alive and pregnant with me. Don't insult me by calling her your wife like it was legitimate."
He looked down at the table. "I loved your mother."
"You don’t even know what love is." I leaned forward. "If you loved her, you wouldn't have poisoned her legacy. You wouldn't have let Sabrina move into her house, wear her jewelry, spend her money. You wouldn't have turned her only daughter into a cash machine."
"I did what I had to do to survive…"
"Survive?" I was standing now, my hands flat on the table. "You want to talk about survival? I survived four years alone in a foreign country with a baby I never planned to have. I survived childbirth without anyone there. I survived building a life from nothing while you sat here feeling sorry for yourself."
"Millie, please…"
After trying to be defensive he chose to apologize now? I scoffed.
"You've changed," he said suddenly, his tone shifting. Less pleading now. More accusing. "You're not the girl I raised."
So silly of me to think he’d feel sorry and apologize.
"Good." I smiled coldly. "Because the girl you raised was a victim. She was weak. She let you walk all over her because she was desperate for your approval. For any scrap of love you might throw her way."
"I always loved you…"
"You loved what I could give you." I sat back down, my voice steady again. "And you know what? You're right. I have changed. I'm not that girl anymore. And I have you to thank for that."
He blinked, confused.
"Everything I went through; every betrayal, every moment of pain…it made me stronger. It taught me exactly who I am and what I deserve. So thank you, Father. Thank you for being such a terrible parent that I learned to survive without you."
His face crumpled. "You can't mean that."
"I do." I stood again, preparing to leave. "And here's what's going to happen. I'm going to make sure you stay in here for longer than you're going to live. Every illegal contract you signed, every dollar you stole, every law you broke…I'm going to find it. And I'm going to make sure you pay for all of it."
"You can't do that. You're my daughter…"
"Which is why I know exactly where you hid everything." I smiled. "You always thought I wasn't paying attention. That I was too young, too stupid to understand what you were doing. But I saw everything. I remember everything."
"Millie, please. I'm your father…"
"No. You're just the man who happens to share my DNA." I turned toward the door. "Oh, and one more thing. Sabrina, Martha, and Silas? They're all coming to join you soon. I'm gathering evidence against every single one of them. And when I'm done, you'll all rot in here together."
"You're making a mistake…"
"The only mistake I ever made was thinking you deserved my forgiveness."
I knocked on the door to signal the guard.
"Goodbye, Raphael. I hope prison teaches you what you never learned in life: consequences."
"Millie!" His voice cracked. "You can't just leave! I'm your father! You owe me…"
I looked back at him one last time.
"I don't owe you anything. Not anymore."
The door opened, and I walked out without looking back.
………….
The moment I stepped outside the prison, they were on me.
Reporters. Dozens of them.
"Ms, Millie-Rose Harvey! Did you visit your father?"
"Are you trying to get him out?"
"Do you forgive him for what he did?"
"Is it true you're pressing charges against your stepmother?"
"Millie-Rose! Millie-Rose! Over here!"
The cameras flashed in my face, microphones thrust toward me from every direction. I froze, momentarily overwhelmed by the noise and the press of bodies.
Then Callie was there.
She grabbed my arm and pushed through the crowd like a linebacker, using her body to create a path.
"No comment," she barked at the reporters. "Step back. Give her space."
"Just one question…"
"I said step back!"
She practically shoved me into the car, climbing in after me. Renan was already in the driver's seat, engine running.
He pulled away before we'd even closed the door properly.
The reporters chased us for a few feet, still shouting questions, still filming. Then they fell away.
Silence filled the car.
I stared out the window, watching the prison disappear in the side mirror.
"You okay?" Callie asked quietly.
Was I?
I'd just told my father I never wanted to see him again. I'd promised to destroy what was left of my family. I'd walked away from the last blood relative who might have cared about me.
And I felt... nothing.
No guilt. No sadness. No regret.
Just freedom.
"Yeah," I said finally. "I'm okay."
"What did you say to him?"
"Everything I should have said years ago." I turned to look at her. "I told him the truth. That he destroyed me. That he's going to pay for it. And that I'm never coming back."
Callie reached over and squeezed my hand. "Good."
"Good?"
"He didn't deserve your forgiveness, Millie. Or your tears. Or any more of your time." She smiled sadly. "I'm proud of you."
Those words hit harder than I expected.
"Thank you," I whispered. "For coming with me. For being there."
"Always." She squeezed my hand again. "That's what family does."
Real family. Not the one I was born into, but the one I'd chosen.
Callie. Renan. Braham. Leo.
They were my family now.
And I wasn't losing them.
Not to my father. Not to Sabrina. Not to anyone.
I pulled out my phone and saw the notifications. Hundreds of them. The prison visit was already trending.
Of course it was.
But for once, I didn't care.
Let them talk. Let them speculate. Let them judge.
I knew the truth.
And soon, everyone else would too.
- Writer
