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“Don’t bring your mother into this!”
“Oh, but I think it’s time I did bring her into this!” I say and get up, the anger too raw and powerful to keep me still. My core is shaking along with my hands as I look at him, my chin raised in defiance. “I let too many things go unspoken, and frankly, Dad, I’ve had enough. The truth is you picked the worst fucking time to be a decent father. Where were you when I was staying here with Mom, watching her die slowly every single day?”
Dad turns away and finishes his drink, then promptly pours himself another. “I’m not going to entertain this, Nadia. You’re an adult, start acting like one.”
“You’re right about one thing. I am an adult, and I’m the only one with a spine in this room,” I reply. “Where were you, Dad? When Mom was dying, asking for you, begging to see you. You were hiding, you were running away, keeping busy, and coming around only when the lights were off, and everybody was asleep. When she had too much morphine in her system to even be able to wake up anymore, I was the one who sat here, Dad. I had the spine needed to sit here and watch my mother die, while you … you ran off. You … coward!”
“I couldn’t bear to watch her die!” my father snarls and tosses the glass across the room.
I yelp as it smashes into the wall, glass and whiskey spilling onto the floor. A heavy silence follows as I stare at him, my heart beating faster. His face is red with rage, but the grief swells in the form of tears. They stream down his cheeks as his shoulders sag in defeat.
“I couldn’t bear to watch her die,” he says again between broken sobs. “She was my life, my light, the woman I gave my everything to. I left the club for her. I worked my ass off every fucking day so she’d have a good home and a safe life. I loved your mother more than anything in the world, and I thought … I thought for sure we’d get to grow old together.”
“How do you think I felt?” I reply, my voice trembling with emotion. “She was my mom. She was dying in front of me, and I couldn’t even turn to you for any kind of support. I got more kindness and affection from the fucking kitchen staff, Dad.”
He stands still and stares at me, the truth finally hitting him hard. It knocks the air out of his lungs as he exhales sharply and walks over. “Nadia, I was a coward. You’re right. I hid from it all. I let you bear the brunt of it and thought I’d get away with it if I just threw money at the problem. You’re right, you’re so right.”
“I needed you,” I say, crying from the bottom of my soul. “I needed my daddy.”
“Oh, Nadia, I’m so sorry,” he stops a few feet away, unable to cope with the sight of me crying. If there’s one thing I know beyond the shadow of a doubt, it’s the fact that this man cannot cope with strong emotions—not even his own. I have no idea how my mother handled this side of him, but based on how he behaved during her illness, I don’t think she ever knew how to do that or how to correct this aspect. I can feel him pulling away. “I’m sorry. But I never considered how my actions would affect you. You were always the stronger of the two of us. I trusted you to handle it.”
“Me, your sixteen-year-old daughter?”
“I’ve made my peace with it,” he says.
“But you can’t trust me now, at twenty-two and carving my own way through life. What a double standard that is. Face it, Dad. You trusted me to handle it because it was convenient for you to be able to run away.” I can’t help but laugh, a contemptuous chuckle.
He feels its sting down to the bone and gives me a sour look. “I gave you and your mother everything you ever wanted, everything you needed. Don’t you dare judge me.”
“Except the one thing we truly wanted—a father and a husband,” I bluntly reply.
“Someday, you’ll understand,” he sighs. “I … the doctor said we should avoid stressful situations for the babies’ sake. Let’s end this here.”
“We always end it where it’s most convenient for you, Dad, but that’s okay. I see you, the real you. And rest assured, as soon as I can, I will leave and never look back,” I declare, my hands balled into fists so tight, my knuckles hurt. “You already lost a wife, you’ll lose your daughter and grandchildren, too.”
He has more to say. I can almost see the words on the tip of his tongue. His ego beckons him to keep trying to defend his unwise decision, but his own reason is getting in the way. He knows he did wrong; it’s written all over his face. But this is Quicksilver. The great Michael Kessler. The untouchable man of means. The king of his domain.
But this is also my father. The man who didn’t have the courage to face his dying wife, to be there for her, to hold her hand and make it easier for her as she prepared to leave this world.
“I will never forgive you,” I tell him when the silence between us becomes unbearable. “I will never forgive you for leaving her to struggle on her own, for not respecting your wedding vows, all the promises you made her. I will never forgive you for leaving me to handle it on my own, either. You shouldn’t have let me go through it alone. I was a kid, Dad. I deserved better, and so did Mom.”
Without hesitation, I walk out of the living room and head upstairs. By the time I lock the door to my room and crash into the bed, I’m crying my heart out. I can’t stop the tears from flowing. I’m lonely and miserable, pregnant, and struggling to keep it together for the babies’ sake.
23
Nadia
It’s well after midnight when my phone rings.
I’ve been in a deep sleep—the kind that makes me motionless like a corpse splayed across the bed. I wipe the drool from my mouth and roll over to grab the phone from the nightstand. My heart skips a beat when I see Orion’s name on the screen.
“Hey,” I mumble after I slide to answer.
“You’ve got two minutes to get out of there and jump the northeastern fence,” Orion says, his voice low and disturbingly serious.
Blinking slowly, I check the screen again. Maybe I’m dreaming. “Wait, what?”
“Two minutes, Nadia. I remotely disabled your security system. This is your chance to get out of there without anyone noticing,” he says.
