"That's it. I'm going to kill him, Sam." Luis jumped up from his seat.
"Luis!" Sam grabbed him. "You've got to calm down. It looks like Sheridan is holding her own."
A vein throbbing in his neck, Luis's eyes flew back to the video monitor. "The way he talks to her . . . it just makes me so sick."
"I know, Luis. I know." Sam removed his hands from his friend's shoulders. "No father should treat his daughter the way Alistair is treating her."
"No human being should treat another human being that way . . ."
Sam nodded his head and frowned.
"It's just so hard for me to stand here and watch this, Sam—to not run in and rescue her."
"I know it is." Sam looked at his friend. "Maybe I was wrong. . . . Maybe you should go in there . . ."
"No . . . I think you're right." Luis glanced at the video monitor and then back at Sam. "If I go in there now, Sheridan may never get this out of her system."
Sam squeezed Luis's shoulder. "I know this is hard for you, buddy."
"It's excruciating." Luis wrung his hands. "Come on, Sheridan—you've got this. You have to believe in yourself."
"You have no idea who I am, Father." Sheridan inhaled. "You've never even tried to get to know me."
"What is there to know?" Alistair shrugged. "There was only one thing you were ever good for—a bargaining chip for a lucrative marriage—and you even managed to screw that up."
Sheridan spread her fingers over the front of her belly. "Don't speak to me that way."
"Why not?" Alistair laughed. "You're my daughter. I can speak to you any way I want to."
"Not anymore." Sheridan steeled herself. "I'm through with you insulting me and belittling me—I'm not just going to stand here and take it anymore."
"You're not?" Alistair raised his brows and laughed. "I'll believe that when I see it."
"How can you treat me like this?" Sheridan asked. "Don't I mean anything to you?"
"I don't know what you want from me," Alistair sighed. "Maybe if you and Julian hadn't been such disappointments to me, things would be different right now."
"No." Sheridan grabbed his cell bars. "I will not let you talk to me like this."
"Do whatever you want." Alistair wandered back to his cot and sat down on it. "It doesn't change anything."
"No, you're right. It doesn't." Sheridan tightened her fingers around the bars. "It doesn't change the fact that you were never a real father to either Julian or me."
Alistair rubbed his head. "I've heard just about enough of this, Sheridan."
Sheridan stepped back, her hands dropping to her sides. Was her father even capable of love?
Thinking back on her life, she couldn't even remember one time that he had really hugged her. That he'd held her on his knee and reassured her that everything was going to be okay. That he'd told her that he loved her.
Pilar had been the one to do that. Pilar had always been the one to do that. Pilar had loved her even though she didn't have to.
A lightness seeped through Sheridan's chest; tears welled in her eyes. "I don't know why I didn't see it before."
Alistair raised his brows. "See what, Sheridan?"
"That you're not capable of being a father." A newfound strength infused Sheridan's body. "That the way you treat me has nothing to do with me—that you're not capable of loving anyone."
Her eyes glistening, Sheridan studied her father. "You never loved Mother. You couldn't have hurt her if you did." Swallowing a lump in her throat, Sheridan glanced down and caressed her belly. "You didn't even love Julian or me when we were nothing but innocent babies. Your heart is hardened to everyone around you."
"Instead of blaming me, why don't you take a look at yourself?" Alistair shot back. "Figure out that you're not deserving of love?"
"That's not true. Pilar loved me when she didn't have to." Sheridan's eyes flew to her father's. "And you're forgetting that Luis loves me, too."
Alistair chuckled. "Well, I can't speak for Pilar, but, judging by the state you're in right now, Luis obviously got what he was after." Alistair rubbed his chin and sighed. "Pilar probably just pitied you."
"What is the matter with you, Father?" Sheridan's voice filled with disbelief. "How can you say things like that to me? How can you treat your own daughter this way?"
"Easy, Sheridan. You're a waste of space to me. A pest that I've never been able to get rid of."
"No! Don't you dare put this on me!" Sheridan said. "A parent's job is to love their child—no matter what. To make sure that child feels loved."
"You and your greeting card sentiments . . ."
"Stop it, Father!" Sheridan cried. "Stop trying to turn this on me!"
"I can turn it whatever way I want to," Alistair growled.
"Not anymore." Her resolve strengthening, Sheridan turned away from him and started toward the door. Pausing when she reached the exit, she turned back and looked at him. "I can't believe I've spent my entire life seeing myself through your eyes, not realizing that—just like everyone else—I'm worthy of being loved."
