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He showed no interest, boredom making him roll his eyes.
Faced with his silence she couldn’t help asking, ‘Don't you want to know how I am? What I've been doing? What I've achieved?'
His withering stare clued her into his response before he spoke. 'I don't give a damn anymore.'
Pain sliced her heart in two, the old familiar questions reverberating through her head: What did I do wrong? Why did you stop loving me? Could I have done anything differently?
But she wasn't a scared teenager anymore. She had her career skyrocketing all the way to the top and she'd be damned if she stuck around to take more from this emotionless drone.
Resisting the urge to jab her finger at him to ram home her point, she sat back, folded her arms, and looked him straight in the eye.
'Maybe you should give a damn, Dad. That way, you'd know I'm a senior executive at a top London advertising firm, that I'm good at what I do, and I've done it all on my own, no thanks to you.'
She'd come here with some semblance of the idealistic girl she'd once been, but that girl vanished beneath his lack of caring, and she wanted to rub his nose in her independence, in her success, in the proof she'd survived despite what he'd put her through.
If she'd thought her outburst would gain a reaction or recognition for her achievements, she should've known better.
Darby glowered and drew himself up, resembling the towering giant of a man she remembered as he rammed his cane against the floor.
'You're a fool if you think I care about any of that.'
Her heart ached as she stared at the man who was her father biologically but didn't know the meaning of the word.
She could rant and rave and fling past hurts or present triumphs in his face, but what would be the point? Darby listened to no-one but himself, which was why he now found himself in this place. No amount of money had induced anyone locally to play nursemaid and she couldn't blame them.
She stood and slung her bag higher on her shoulder, her face devoid of pity for the father she'd never had. 'Sorry you feel that way. I thought…'
What? That the old despot might've changed, might've mellowed with time and illness? Unlikely. If anything, his belligerence had worsened and she'd been crazy to come here to set the past to rest while hoping for a miracle.
‘You thought what? That I'd welcome you with open arms after all this time?' He snorted and waved his hand at the door. ‘Leave the way you came in.'
She'd cried rivers of wasted tears when she was a teenager for all this man had put her through and there was no way she'd stand here now and allow him to reduce her to tears again.
With a shake of her head, she turned away, ready to walk out and never look back.
'That's it, run away again.’ He snickered. ‘Though this time, you won't have a penny of mine to cushion you when you fall.'
Icy foreboding trickled down her spine as she slowly swung back to face him. 'What did you say?'
His malevolent grin raised goosebumps on her skin. 'You heard me. That money you thought you got from your mother? It was a crock. She never left you a cent.’ He tapped his chest. ‘That was my money you squandered on your jaunt, my money that made sure you didn't end up in the gutter.'
Shock made her lightheaded and Britt leaned against the doorway for support, her gut twisting with the painful truth.
'So, daughter dearest, looks like you owe me after all.'
With his words ringing in her ears, Britt stumbled from the apartment, down the hallway and out of the accommodation, making it to her car before she collapsed, slumping over the steering wheel.
She'd thought she'd escaped her father’s stranglehold ten years earlier, had fought hard for her independence, had found safety and confidence in her career.
She'd been wrong.
He’d been behind it all.
Right then, she vowed to do whatever it took to pay off her debt.
You owe me…
With the hateful truth ringing in her ears, her head snapped up as she straightened, knowing what she had to do.
