#Chapter 182 A Bad Father

I sat on the loveseat, watching as Andrew paced the length of the sitting room to his private chambers. He had been at it since shortly after dinner, and I was certain that he was going to wear down the carpet at this rate. I knew that he only needed to work out his frustrated energy, but it was difficult to watch him being so hard on himself. “I should have been able to protect her,” he muttered, more to himself than to me. “I should have been able to keep her and Bob apart.” “We tried to warn her,” I said. “That’s all that we can do.” “We should have tried harder.” “Short of showing her the evidence—” “We didn’t need to show her the evidence. That would have just put her in more danger. We could have told her more that he’s done.” I cringed. That wasn’t exactly the path that I would have wanted to take, re-living everything that Bob had done to me since I had been released from prison. It wouldn’t have worked, anyway. “She would have just thought that we were making more stuff