Not So Perfect

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 The drive home is a tense, suffocating silence. Angela's mind seethes, replaying the interrogation, the way her father's eyes flickered when Sophie's name was mentioned, the practiced innocence that grated on her nerves. She steals glances at him, his brow furrowed, his hands gripping the wheel with white-knuckled intensity. He's playing dumb, and she's had enough.

As they pull into the driveway, Angela's rage simmers, threatening to boil over. She wants to scream, to shatter the carefully constructed facade he's maintained for years.

"Angela, we need to talk," her father says, his voice heavy, laced with a feigned concern that sends a shiver of disgust down her spine.

"No," she says, her voice sharp, cutting through the pretense. "We don't."

They walk into the house, the familiar space feeling like a battleground. Angela moves towards her room, seeking a moment of respite, but his voice stops her.

"Angela, please," he pleads, his voice trembling slightly. "Just... listen to me."

She turns, her eyes blazing. "Listen to what? More lies?" she spits out, her voice laced with venom.

They stand in the living room, the silence crackling with unspoken accusations. Angela pulls out her phone, quickly drafting a message to Tony, a silent cry for help.

"What's going on, Angela?" her father asks, his voice soft, a pathetic attempt at concern.

"Don't play dumb," she hisses, her voice low and dangerous. "You know exactly what's going on."

"I don't," he insists, his eyes wide with a practiced innocence that makes her want to scream.

"Sophie Mendez," she says, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Ring any bells?"

His eyes flicker, a brief, almost imperceptible moment of recognition. "I... I don't know who you're talking about," he stammers, the lie transparent.

"Liar," she says, her voice cold and hard. "Don't insult my intelligence."

"Angela, please," he pleads, his voice laced with desperation. "I'm trying to understand."

"You're not trying to understand anything," she retorts, her voice shaking with rage. "You're trying to cover your tracks."

"Cover my tracks?" he asks, his voice rising, a hint of defensiveness creeping in. "What are you talking about?"

"Carol Willis," she says, her voice low and menacing. "And her daughter. Does that name jog your memory?"

The color drains from his face, his eyes widening in a mixture of shock and fear. "How... how do you know about that?" he whispers, his voice barely audible.

"I know everything," she says, her voice laced with a chilling finality. "And I'm done with your lies. I'm done with your secrets."

"Angela, please," he begs, his voice cracking. "This is... complicated."

"Complicated?" she laughs, a bitter, hollow sound. "You abandoned them! You abandoned her!"

"I did what I thought was best," he says, his voice pleading, his eyes filled with a desperate attempt at justification.

"Best for who?" she screams, tears welling up in her eyes, not of sadness, but of pure, unadulterated rage. "Because it wasn't best for her! It was never best for us!"

"Angela," he pleads, reaching out to touch her arm.

She recoils, her eyes burning with a hatred she never knew she possessed. "Don't touch me," she hisses, her voice trembling with fury.