Fall (VIP 3)

John shifts his stance, his fingers opening and closing, clearly fighting his instincts. It isn’t a normal thing for him to hold back. Whether he acknowledges it or not, he is a protector. “Stella.” It’s a low plea. “Let me—”

“Please,” I whisper, at the end of my strength.

He gives a short nod. “I’ll be in the other room.” He levels my dad with a hard glare. “If you’ve done your homework, you already know who my family is. From the cradle on, I’ve learned how to play dirty. I can end you as easily as snapping my fingers. Hurt her, and I will.”

Shocked, I watch John turn heel and stalk into his media room.

“I like him,” Dad says in the silence. When I shoot him a look, he quirks a brow. “He’s right, you know. His family are the worst kind of crooks—rich and powerful enough to get away with anything.”

“So maybe you should heed his warning and back off.”

Dad strolls over to the marble mantle and examines the pastoral oil painting above it. “He won’t hurt me. He’s too afraid it will hurt you if he does.”

“Unlike you.” I slam down the bottle I’ve been holding with a death grip. “Years you’ve been gone. Years I’ve searched for one word of your existence, and nothing!”

He doesn’t flinch, doesn’t react at all. Just stands there, fingering the onyx obelisk that stands on the mantle, and I know he’s thinking about stealing it.

I move toward him in halting, uncoordinated steps. “Years of being alone, having no family, only to have you return, not because of me, but because of him.” I fling my arm in the direction John left. “For money.”

“I did you a favor,” Dad says without inflection. “You don’t need me. Truth is, you thrived once I left.”

“Not one ounce of remorse,” I go on, “not even now.”

He shakes his head. “Never felt remorse. Never felt much of anything, if I’m honest.”

His eyes are the exact shape and color of mine, but they’re flat. It hits me that I’ve always thought of them as mirrors, reflecting, never showing any depth.

He rubs a finger over his beard. “No, that’s not entirely true. I’ve always been proud of the way you learned so quickly to take care of yourself.”

I snort. “I had to. You certainly didn’t.”

“As I said, you were better off without me.”

“And yet here you are. For money.” My insides shake so hard, I have to wrap my arms around myself and hold on tight. It’s an uncomfortably familiar process. I’m always holding myself up.

“Just a drop. I’m in a pinch.” Dad moves his attention to a silver box on John’s antique coffee table. “It isn’t like this guy will miss it.”

“You’d risk destroying the closest thing I’ve had to true happiness for a ‘drop’ of money?” An ugly sound gurgles in my throat, and I swallow hard to keep from being sick.

“Come on, Stella girl. I taught you to read people better than this. There is no risk. That guy looks at you as if the sun rises and sets by your smile. You were never in danger of losing him. Made certain of that before I approached him.”

Sweet Jesus, he actually believes he’d been doing right by me. I stare at the man responsible for my existence. I’ve been wanting to find him for so long, I’d forgotten how it truly felt to be near him. He is an illusion, always was. Nothing of my dad feels like love or security. I’m hurt and angry, but I have no more love for this man. There is nothing between us. Only the pain of finally knowing that I have no family left. I am all alone in this world.

“I want you to leave,” I say through numb lips.

He stares at me, assessing all the outcomes and possible responses. “If that’s what you want.”

“Stay away from John and anyone connected to him, or I will call the police. Understood?”

My dad’s weathered features draw tight, but he nods. “Understood.”

We stand there in silence, neither of us moving. This is the last time I will lay eyes on him, and I find myself relieved. Hurt for what I never had, but it’s all tied up in my own feelings of abandonment. When I try to think of missing him, or wanting him back, I feel nothing.

With a small dip of his chin in acknowledgment, he sets the silver box back on the table—Jesus, when did he pick it up? Straightening, he inclines his head again. “Right. Then I’ll be off. Remember what I’ve taught you. You were alone when you were born and you’ll be alone you die.”

In other words, the only person important in this world is yourself. I’d heard that so many times from him, I’d lost count. Bitterness washes over my tongue and down my throat.