Sensual Redamancy

Chapter 64

•Dominic•

I sank into the couch with a heavy sigh, the weight of the day pressing down on me like a physical burden. "Sofia's upset," I muttered.

Greta, nearby, popped a strawberry into her mouth and wandered over, bowl in hand. Her casual movements stood in opposition to the turmoil swirling inside me. She plopped down beside me with her own sigh, tilting her body to face me.

"Of course, she's upset, Dom," Greta said, her tone firm but laced with understanding. "And she has every right to be. Think about it—if I were in a coma for days and someone just up and whisked me away without a trace? I'd lose it too."

Her response made sense.

I glanced at the clock. "It's been more than five hours," I admitted, my voice heavier than I intended. Olivia was still unreachable, her silence gnawing at the edges of my composure. Ever since the news of her divorce filing hit, the world seemed to have erupted into chaos.

Despite my reassurances to Sofia—that Ava was safe, that this was all part of Olivia's calculated plan—I was starting to doubt it myself.

Greta nudged me lightly with her elbow, anchoring her gaze on mine. "Look, Olivia's unpredictable in a lot of ways as of now, but if there's one thing she's good at, it's protecting those she cares about. Ava's going to be fine. I trust her."

"I trust her too," I said, though the words felt brittle in my mouth. "It's just—no one's ever stood up to our father like this before. Not this openly. It's bold, maybe too bold, and with him off the radar since the news broke, I can't help but wonder if something's gone wrong."

Greta hummed, her expression thoughtful. "You're right—it is bold, but it's necessary. Honestly, for the first time in forever, I actually feel hopeful. Enough that I've started planning a future where he has no part in it."

Her words caught me off guard. Greta, my ever-cynical little sister, was talking about a future. A hopeful one. "Really?" I asked, turning to face her. "What does that future look like?"

She hesitated, then gave me a small smile. "You remember the money you gave me during the Victor Morales debacle?"

"The half you didn't give back?" I teased, raising an eyebrow. "Yeah, I remember. Please tell me you didn't blow it on something ridiculous that paints me an accomplice in the terrible choices you make."

Greta chuckled, a soft sound that felt like a balm to my nerves. "Relax. I invested most of it—carefully. The remainder enough to sustain me for a few years once I'm on my own. Assuming you don't take it back, of course."

I smiled, genuinely intrigued. For the first time in a long time, there was a light in her eyes. "So, what's the plan? Will you let me in on it or I'm going to have to wait to figure it out with the rest of the world?"

She shrugged, a rare vulnerability creeping into her tone. "I don't know if my perspective will change, but right now, college isn't in the picture. I want to focus on something meaningful to me. Something that'll make good use of my creativity and help girls like me—girls with severe daddy issues or whatever it is it's called when your father is a fucked-up maniac who fucks up his children."

Hearing her openly acknowledge her struggles was both heart-breaking and inspiring. I reached over, ruffling her hair. "You're incredible, you know that? Whatever you choose, I'll always have your back, kiddo."

She swatted my hand away playfully, though her smile lingered. "Not a kid anymore, big guy."

I pulled her into a hug, feeling the steady rhythm of her breathing against my chest. For a moment, the chaos of the day faded into the background. Greta, my sarcastic, resilient sister, had survived. She was healing, and I was proud of her.