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“Don’t you want to ask where she is?” he said.
I didn’t respond, knowing that I would be playing into his hands. I couldn’t give into his jabs, couldn’t let his manipulation take me off the course of what mattered.
And that was Crystal.
Only Crystal.
I glanced at Davit and wondered if he was going to be able to do the same.
On his face, I saw all of the frustration, rage, and fear that I felt.
Saw the promise of retribution that I knew he could fulfill.
I reached out for him, squeezed his hand, hoping he felt my support, understood that I was here for him no matter what.
My father took my silence as an opportunity to ask me another question before I could answer the first. “Is there some news you wanted to share with your father, Amy?”
“I’m not sure,” I responded.
He laughed, the smooth, rich sound, his carefree voice, sending my already blistering rage even higher. “You like to pretend otherwise, but I know you’re a very smart girl. You didn’t think I would want to know about the birth of my first granddaughter?”
“After I signed those papers, I didn’t think you’d want anything else to do with me,” I said as I fought to regain my footing.
It was probably more than I should have said, but my answer threw him off for a moment.
“Are you going to make a stink about that trust fund thing?” he said.
“It’s already forgotten,” I responded.
And it was.
I’d forgotten about those papers, the trust fund, almost immediately after it happened. And he knew that. Knew that the only thing I cared about was her. And he was trying to make me twist.
I would do my best not to give in to that.
“So,” I said.
This was a difficult line to walk, being desperate for information, but not wanting to push too hard.
“So,” he responded.
I heard other sounds in the background, knew that they were her. I listened intently, trying to figure out if she was distressed.
I couldn’t tell, but with each second that ticked by, my worry increased.
“Raphael, is there something we need to discuss?”
Davit spoke, and I looked at him, worried that this conversation was going to go in a way that would be harmful for Crystal.
But when I met Davit’s eyes, I saw the anger, the worry, but also saw calm, determination to protect our daughter at all costs.
I squeezed his hand again and then listened. “Mr. Petrosyan,” my father said. “Or I guess I can call you son now?”
“If you choose to. But I don’t think that’s what you want to talk about,” Davit said.
“Well, it is a little thoughtless and inconsiderate not to ask for my permission before marrying my daughter, but I’m not old fashioned,” my father said.
I glanced at Elias, who looked like he was ready to jump through the phone and beat my father to death.
