“Go right ahead, Dad,” she said, feeling like she’d shrugged off a lead weight from around her shoulders. “I’m capable of making my own money. I’m also capable of surrounding myself with people who understand the difference between love and manipulation.”
She turned to go, but her father called out for her to wait. She turned back, eyebrows raised, waiting for him to give her a reason to stay.
“I…I don’t know what to do,” Stewart said, his arms falling limply to his sides. “I don’t want to lose you. I just…I don’t know how to make you stay.”
Her chest flooded with a tender, wounded feeling, pity and anger swirling inside of her until finally both emotions faded away, leaving her as confused as the tired old man facing her across the room.
“I’m not a chess piece, Dad,” she said wearily. “I’m your daughter. I’m a person and I’m willing to listen if you’re willing to talk.”
He blinked, his features softening in a way she had never seen before. But it wasn’t regret or love that gentled his expression; it was hopelessness, helplessness, the barren look of a man who had finally realized that the war was over and he had lost the final battle.
No matter how much he might want her to stay, he couldn’t, or wouldn’t, let her in. He was trapped inside a fortress of his own lies and he would remain there—safe, but desperately alone—until the day he died.
“I did what I had to do,” he said in a voice not much louder than a whisper. “There’s no point in talking about the past. It’s too late for regret. Or forgiveness. You couldn’t forgive it all, anyway. No one could.”
Hannah nodded, tears stinging into her eyes as Stewart settled back into his chair by the fire, clearly resigned to letting his daughter walk away.
To the outside world, her father appeared to have it all—money, power, influence, a beautiful, well-bred wife, and a shot at the presidency if he played his cards right. But looking at him now, all Hannah saw was the shell of a man, a lonely, suffering warning that every dream came at a price.
The price her father had paid had been too dear, and it had left him all alone. He would rule his kingdom from a dusty, empty tower room, knowing that everything beautiful in his life had withered and died in the shadow of the dark bargains he had made.
Tears slipping silently down her cheeks, Hannah turned to go, wondering how high a price she would pay for her own dreams.
She waited until she was down the hall, nearing the garage on the south side where the servants parked before she pulled her cell from the band of her sports bra, where she’d had it tucked since last night. Dominic said he would call as soon as he had news, but she couldn’t resist punching in his contact numberand hitting send.
The phone rang four times before forwarding to voice mail. For a moment, Hannah considered hanging up without leaving a message, but if she was in for a penny, she was in for a pound.
It was time for Dom to know just how serious she was about getting the information she needed.
“It’s Hannah,” she said after the beep. “I took somesamples of Jackson’s hair last night while he was sleeping. I’m overnighting them to the post officebox address you left so you’ll have them as soon as you’re ready. Hopefully, finding Harley and Jasper won’t be as difficult as my father seems to think it will be and we can have this settled soon.”
Hannah hesitated a moment before adding. “And Dom, don’t forward any information to my father. I know we agreed that you work for me now, but I want to make it clear that I don’t want Dad to know where Harleyand Jasper are. She had her reasons for wanting out from under his thumb and I respect them, whatever they are. Talk soon.”
