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‘Do you really think that’s what Della would have wanted, Dora?’
She blinked. It was the first time he’d called her by her name, and hearing it spoken in his soft, precise voice made her insides tighten.
‘And how exactly do you think Archie will feel when he gets old enough to understand what you did? What you so freely rejected on his behalf. Do you think he’ll see it the same way?’
She felt suddenly dizzy.
He might have called it compensation, but yesterday when he’d offered her money she had felt unequivocally righteous in refusing him, refusing what was essentially a bribe. But this felt different.
It was different.
This time he wasn’t offering her money.
He wasn’t offering her anything.
His dark eyes were level with hers, and she could see herself reflected there.
A knot formed in her stomach. How many times had she had to do this? Be forced to look at herself through someone else’s eyes and find herself wanting.
Tabitha, her mother, had been the first—although, to be fair, her mother hadn’t really stuck around long enough to dislike what she saw. Dora’s father had made up for that, though. She shivered. David’s blue eyes were so like Della’s, but where her sister’s had been full of love, his had always expressed a kind of disappointed boredom.
But this was not the moment to be thinking about her parents.
‘Archie is my flesh and blood too,’ she said stiffly. ‘There’s nothing I wouldn’t do to give him the best possible life.’
He studied her face. ‘Good. Then I’ll call my housekeeper in Macau and let her know that you and Archie will be coming to stay. Shall we say for three weeks?’
Dora watched as he stood up and walked towards the window, pulling out his phone. She was mute—paralysed with shock and confusion. Inside her head, her heartbeat was booming like a cannon, and for a moment she thought she must have misheard him. But then she looked at his face, and she knew there was nothing wrong with her hearing.
‘No.’ She stood up, her whole body trembling with anger. ‘We shall not say that. I am not going to Macau with you, and nor is Archie.’
He stared at her, then slowly pocketed the phone. ‘You said there was nothing you wouldn’t do.’
She shook her head. ‘I didn’t mean I’d take a trip to Macau.’ She was losing track of the conversation. ‘You said he has a “birthright”...’
‘Everything comes back to money with you, doesn’t it?’ he said softly.
In that moment she hated him. Hated the way he could turn words on their head and inside out, and the way her made her feel one step behind.
The silence stretched out and curved across the room as he left the window and walked towards her.
She took an immediate defensive step back, felt her anger stalling, then panic and something else flaring hotly over her skin as he stopped in front of her.
‘Archie’s going to be one next week. What better time could there be to introduce him to his family than his birthday? And that’s what I want, Dora. For Archie to come to Macau to meet his family. To see his home. To spend time with his half-brothers and -sisters. He has a right to do that. And I know it’s what your sister wanted too.’
Their gazes locked.
‘She wrote my father letters. He showed me some. Nothing private—just words about how much she loved Macau. What it meant to her. What family meant to her.’
Dora swallowed. It was true. Della had loved Macau. And she knew that more than anything her sister had dreamed of living there as a family, with Lao Dan and Archie.
But Della hadn’t been the only one with dreams of family life. Their mother’s absence and her father’s indifference were like wounds that refused to heal. She knew what it felt like to be cast adrift, and she couldn’t inflict a version of her life on Archie.
As if sensing her thoughts, Charlie took a step forward. ‘Could you do that for her, Dora? Could you put aside your feelings, your doubts, your life, and bring Archie to his home in Macau? For Della?’
For a moment she struggled to find words. She was aware of nothing but the pounding of her heart and his eyes on hers—dark, steady, compelling. Her love for her sister felt like a weight. And there was guilt too. Remembering her phone call to the adoption agency, she felt sick with regret and shame.
She felt as if she was being pulled in opposite directions.
