His After The Heartbreak (BL)-Chapter 197: Please Do Not Let Me Go Back

Chapter 197- Please Do Not Let Me Go Back

Logan’s POV

Her mouth opened, she couldn’t even close it.

Good.

No, perfect.

Very fucking perfect.

I almost turned and ran to my dad, ready to kiss him right on the cheek for standing tall.

"This isn’t over," she hissed, grabbing her bag like she didn’t just embarrass herself in front of everyone.

I stepped forward before my dad could say anything.

"Yes, Rachel. Yes," I said coldly. "It is over. And not just over—it’s done. Finished. Burned to ash."

And then... we heard a voice.

Soft. Weak. Almost like a whisper soaked in tears.

"I don’t want to go with you..."

It was Benita.

She was crying.

Her face was soaked, her little hands trying to pull back as Rachel yanked her forward.

"You don’t know what you’re saying," Rachel snapped, her voice sharp and cruel. "You’re going with me whether you like it or not. And there’s nothing—and I mean nothing—that’s going to stop it."

She pulled harder.

But Benita dug her heels into the ground, dragging herself backward like her life depended on it.

"I want to stay with my dad," she sobbed. "I want to stay with my brother... I don’t want to stay with you."

"Too bad," Rachel hissed, gripping her even tighter. "You don’t get to make that decision. I do."

She smirked again.

"And guess what? I’ve already decided. You’re coming with me."

She started dragging Benita again like she was some kind of object—like she wasn’t a child.

And that was it.

Something inside me snapped.

"STOP!" I roared so loud.

Rachel froze.

Benita froze.

"She has every right to stay where she wants to stay," I said, my voice low but deadly. "You don’t own her. You don’t get to just drag her around like a toy. She’s a child, not your property."

Rachel scoffed.

"You see, Logan," she began, shaking her head like I was the dumbest person alive. "You really think you’re some mini-Jesus, don’t you? Coming in here, trying to stand up for everyone like you’re a savior."

She looked me up and down with disgust.

"Well guess what? That might’ve worked when I first got here, but not this time. Not with Benita."

"She’s mine. And no, you’re not a judge. You don’t get to make rules. You don’t get to decide anything."

She sneered.

"She’s going with me. That’s final. There is nothing—absolutely nothing—you can do to stop me."

That smirk again.

God, I hated that smirk.

I looked at Benita.

She was still crying, still holding back.

I stood still, watching her drag Benita toward the door like she was some bag of trash and not a human being. And as much as every bone in my body screamed at me to do something—to run over there, yank Benita away, and throw Rachel out of the house—I didn’t move.

I knew this woman was dangerous. The type to turn any situation around and play the victim so well that you end up in jail for just breathing the wrong way.

One wrong move... and everything could explode.

Because if I touched her—even by accident—she could scream assault. If my dad tried to block the door, she could fall, hit herself, and blame us for it. She’s that kind of person.

The kind who would hit herself with a vase, run to the hospital, and say we did it just because we didn’t let her walk away with Benita.

I felt helpless.

Benita was crying now.

"Big brother, please! Save me! Please don’t let her take me!" she cried out with all the strength she had left.

I clenched my jaw so hard it felt like it was going to crack. My fists were shaking. My throat was dry. And still... I couldn’t move.

I had to literally force myself to stay put.

Because if I moved, things could get worse. For her. For us.

And that’s the sickest part—how someone like Rachel could use the law as a weapon and twist it to her own game.

I looked at Benita, her tiny hands grabbing onto the doorframe as Rachel pulled harder.

And I could feel her fear like it was my own.

Dad couldn’t hold back anymore.

"Rachel, stop!" he shouted, storming forward.

I immediately let go of Tyler’s hand and followed. I had to be right behind him in case she tried to twist things, in case she screamed that he hit her when he didn’t. She would definitely do it. I could see it in her eyes.

"I can’t watch you take my daughter like this," Dad said, standing in front of her now. "She doesn’t want to go with you. She has every right to make her own decision. She’s not a doll you just pick up and walk out with."

Rachel laughed.

"So sad, Lucian," she said with a smirk. "But I’m the one who decides for her. Not you. Not anyone else. Just me."

She yanked Benita harder, ignoring the way her cries grew louder.

And I stared at her.

And for the first time, I noticed something...

Benita looked sick.

Way too thin for a fourteen-year-old. Her eyes were tired. Her hair dull. Her body weak.

And suddenly, my voice came out without even thinking.

"Are you even feeding this little girl?"

Rachel froze. Her smirk faded just a little.

"That’s none of your business," she snapped quickly.

Like someone who had something to hide.

I stepped forward, my voice cold and steady. "Then where is all the child support money going?"

She stiffened.

Dad stepped in beside me, his voice rising. freёnovelkiss.com

"I send you $5,000 every single month for her. Every. Fucking. Month," he said, shaking with anger. "So why does my daughter still look like this? Why does she look like she hasn’t eaten a full meal in days?"

Rachel didn’t answer.

Because what could she say?

That she spent it all on herself? That she used the money for her own sick games while her daughter starved under her roof?

"That’s none of your business," Rachel spat, her voice dripping with venom. "You already sent me the child support money, so forget about what I used it for."

Then she actually spat at us.

Her spit hit the floor—thank God it didn’t touch us, because I swear, if even one drop landed on me, I would’ve given her something to remember for the rest of her miserable life.

I turned to Dad, my voice tight. "Why didn’t you take Benita from her when you kicked her out? Why didn’t you keep her back then?"

If he had, none of this would be happening now. Benita wouldn’t be so scared. She wouldn’t be looking like a ghost of a child. We could’ve protected her.

Dad let out a deep sigh. Not one of annoyance—but regret.

"You think I didn’t try to?" he said, his voice cracking a little.

"I didn’t even kick her out. One day, I got home from work and they were just... gone. She left you behind, Logan. Took Benita and ran off with that piece of trash she called ’the love of her life.’ No goodbye. Nothing."

"I tried everything to get Benita back. I begged her. I offered to take full custody. But you know what she said?"

He looked away for a second before whispering, "She said if I didn’t pay her child support every month, she’d give Benita up for adoption."

My heart dropped.

That was her threat? Every single day?

"She knew I couldn’t risk that," Dad went on. "So I sent her $5,000 every damn month. Hoping at least Benita would be okay."

I stared at Rachel. "So you got all that money and couldn’t even buy her new clothes? Couldn’t even feed her properly?"

Rachel scoffed and rolled her eyes like we were the crazy ones.

"That’s your business, Lucian," she said, her voice sharp. "You sent the money. That’s where your part ends. I’ll spend it however I want."

She yanked her arm free from Benita’s grip—but that was a mistake.

Because the second Benita felt her hand let go, she ran.

Straight to us.

She looked terrified. Her face was pale, her eyes red from crying, and her tiny arms flew around Dad’s waist as she hugged him like her life depended on it.

"Benita, come back here!" Rachel screamed, but Benita didn’t even flinch.

She clung tighter.

And Dad? He didn’t move either. He placed his hand protectively on her back, shielding her like any real parent would.

"She’s not coming with you, Rachel," Dad said, calmly but firmly. "You can leave now. And just so you know, I’ll be seeing you in court."

Money? Gone.

Control? Gone.

Even her lies weren’t enough to save her now.

She gave us one last dirty look before yanking the door open and storming out like the devil had been defeated.

My eyes dropped to Benita. Now that she wasn’t crying, I could finally see her clearly.

She was way too small for her age. Fourteen? She looked like she was ten. Her arms were thin, her skin too pale, her eyes too hollow.

And then I noticed it.

The scar.

A deep, faded scar running across her upper arm. I knelt beside her, gently brushing her hair out of her face.

"Benita, love..." I whispered, trying not to let my voice shake. "Tell me you didn’t get that scar from being beaten. Please tell me that’s not where it came from."

She looked at me for a long second.

And then she nodded.

My stomach twisted so hard I thought I’d throw up.

It was true.

She had been getting hit.

Starved.

Neglected.

I looked back at Dad, and his face was just as broken as mine.

Benita held onto his arm tighter now, her voice trembling.

"Please..." she whispered. "Please don’t let me go back there. If you take me back to her... I’ll kill myself."