Chapter 2 - THE BREAKING POINT
Mark dropped heavily to his knees on the dust-covered floor of the hidden back room, his navy blue suit jacket straining against his broad shoulders.
He pulled all three terrified girls into a fierce, protective embrace, burying his face in their tangled, dirty hair as hot tears finally broke free.
"We're sorry, Papa... we won't eat too much," the middle daughter whispered again, her small frame trembling violently against his chest.
Mark squeezed his eyes shut, a wave of gut-wrenching nausea and overwhelming guilt crashing over him like a tidal wave.
How could he have been so utterly blind to the horror unfolding right under his own roof for the past six months?
While he was busy entertaining corporate clients downstairs in the ballroom, his precious little girls were starving in the dark.
He held the green plastic plate with its single dry slice of white bread in one hand, his fingers turning white around the rim.
"You never have to apologize again, my babies... Daddy is here now, and nobody will ever hurt you again," Mark vowed with fierce, trembling conviction.
The youngest daughter looked up at him with enormous, exhausted eyes, her pale pink tattered nightgown stained with grime.
"Can we wait until tomorrow to leave, Papa? The red dress lady said bad things happen if we make a sound," she whispered faintly.
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Mark's heart shattered into a million pieces at her words, his paternal instinct hardening into cold, absolute, lethal rage.
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