Page 114 of Baby for the Bratva King

“Perhaps not. But I would like to think a philanthropist would have his morals in check.”

“Our deal still stands,” he says. “If I catch you whoring around, posting those silly dance videos online again, Fleur goes in the grave.”

“Better make sure you give her a higher dosage of anesthesia," I say. “Don’t want to make the same mistakes as last time.” I keep the phone out of sight, in my pocket. “And just for the record—you’re the reason I started dancing in the first place. Those accusations about you being a failed father—they’re all true. But I never did it for the male attention—it was Fleur who went down that route. Me? I wanted to feel in control after failing time after time, trying to be enough for you.”

“But Saskia—you were enough for me. That red dress was sensational. Jude Swindon was very impressed. In fact, everyone was.”

“Yeah. You caught the right people’s attention.”

“Connections,” says my father. “They do get you far.”

“But not far enough.”

“Complain to your sister,” says my father, preparing to run again. “I don’t have time for this.”

“Yeah, time is one thing you’ve never had much of, at least when it comes to family.”

“Saskia—”

“Only giving me the time of day when it suits you.”

My father clicks his teeth. “This is the problem with daughters—always so emotional, so needy, wanting constant reassurance. Toughen up and get on with it. Nobody’s coming to save you.”

“Right. You just bury your own daughter alive and try to shift the blame onto another man.”

“Felix is an animal.”

“And you’re human?” I find his eyes through the darkness. “Tell me the truth about mom and I’ll keep my mouth shut about tonight.”

“Fleur is leverage enough.” My father turns around, getting ready to run.

I grab his neck—the area still sensitive from when I threw the rock there.

“Tell me the fucking truth.”

I forget about the voice recording, about my plan. My father lied to the nation, but he also lied to me.

A sinister smile crawls onto his face, and in this moment, I know my interpretation of reality will be altered forever. Lies can be sweet.

Even to this day, that unloved part of me still refuses to accept my father for who he really is—or rather what he really is.

“Your mother had no drive. No ambition. I was doing well for myself, raising money for local charities, which is why Louise fell in love with me. She thought I was a good person… and then she caught me putting the money in my own pocket, and the doubts set in. ‘Are you sure you can do that?’ She would question my motives. ‘These people are good and honest, and you’re spending their hard-earned money on a piano you don’t even know how to play.’”

My father mimics her voice, my blood boiling.

“Constant complaining,” continues my father. “I needed some order, and I needed her to stay out of my way. I was in the beginning stages of my career, and she threatened to destroy me. She saw how hard I worked. All those sleepless nights. Her head hit the pillow at night, and mine was deep into research.”

“Hard work doesn’t make it right.”

“Of course not but look at the life I built for you and Fleur.”

“A life you were rarely ever part of.”

My father laughs. “Wake up, Saskia. You can’t have everything. You think Felix loves you? Think again. Grass grows where you water it.”

An impossible force pulls me away before I can challenge him anymore.

“It’s a waste of breath,” says another voice.