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Now that was over.
Hours later, I was permitted entry to my father’s room. He was still asleep in the bed, propped up with his arm in a cast. His head had been shaved so they could staple the wound shut. His face was pale, and he looked frail in the white bed surrounded by white walls.
I hadn’t called my mother. She would turn hysterical, and I wasn’t ready to deal with it. It was hard enough to be the recipient of their silent hatred and resentment, but to hear her scream how much she regretted having me…I couldn’t take it. Not now. Not when I was about to lose the one person who actually gave a shit about me.
My father stirred before his eyes opened. They seemed to be heavy because he strained to lift his eyelids. Then he stared at the room with an empty gaze, still lethargic from the anesthesia. It took him moments to recall what had happened, to remember how he’d gotten there and what had happened to his arm. He dropped his head and looked at his arm next, wincing when he tried to turn it to examine the cast. Then he looked at me—and the world stopped.
There should have been anger, but instead, there was terror. Pure, unbridled terror. He sat up farther in bed to prepare himself for an attack that wasn’t coming. His breathing immediately spiked, and then the monitor beeped because his heart rate had skyrocketed. I knew it would alert the nurse any moment.
With a shaky breath, he spoke. “Just leave me alone… Please…just go.”
I bowed my head because I wasn’t prepared for this. I’d prepped myself for the anger and the insults, all the horrible things that I deserved to hear. But I wasn’t prepared for that. I wasn’t prepared for my father to be terrified of his only son. I’d known my parents and I would never have a reconciliation, but now, it was certain. Whatever slim chance we’d had had been taken away. “I’m sorry.” I didn’t look at my father before I got up and walked out.
12
SCARLETT
I hadn’t heard from Axel in a few days.
The last time I saw him was when I’d left the estate and he had arrived to join a meeting with my father. Now that the weekend had arrived, I expected an invitation to dinner or a sleepover at his place until Monday, but that invitation never came. He usually texted me throughout the day, to either tease me or flirt with me, maybe even send a picture of himself shirtless just so I could tell him how hot he was.
But all of that stopped.
My intuition told me something was wrong. There was no proof or evidence for it, just a gut feeling, an interpretation of his silence. I decided to text him in the hope I would be proven wrong. I miss you, babe. I stared at the screen and waited for the three dots to appear.
They didn’t.
It was rare for me to text him without getting an immediate response. Whether it was daytime or nighttime, his responses fired off almost immediately, and I knew he grinned every time he saw my name on the screen.
I sat on the couch and continued to wait, too stressed to focus on the TV. I hadn’t had dinner yet, but I had no appetite when I was this worried. The last time I saw Axel, everything was perfect. And now…it was as if he’d ghosted me.
Hours passed, and there was still nothing.
I knew I should play it cool and not blow up his phone with desperation, but I was fucking terrified. Terrified I was about to lose the best thing that had ever happened to me. Is something wrong? I left it at that and refused to text him again. Now he knew I was insecure, and ever since I’d met Axel, he’d never made me feel that way. I always knew where I stood with him, never had to question his attraction or commitment, and that was another thing I loved about him. He didn’t play games, didn’t play it cool, didn’t pretend not to care just to hold the power. He was all in—from the beginning.
But now…I felt like I’d lost him.
I was at the estate the next day when my heart tumbled into my stomach at the sight of him. Through the windows, I could see him approach one of the tables in the courtyard and take a seat, waiting for my father to join him to talk numbers.
The pain in my chest burned like it was on fire. He sat there in a t-shirt and sunglasses, relaxed like I hadn’t texted him last night and asked for his reassurance. He had to know he would see me here at some point, and he just…didn’t care?
A part of me wanted to flee and ignore him, but another part of me wanted to march outside and slap him so hard he flew out of the chair. Instead of taking the high road, I marched out there, my frantic heart rolling around in my chest, and dropped into the chair across from him.
His chin lifted to meet my gaze, but he gave no discernible reaction—like he expected this.
I gave him the chance to speak first, to tell me he’d dropped his phone in the toilet and didn’t have a chance to get a new one, or he was forced to leave the country for a few days and had no reception… Anything.
But he only stared at me, his beautiful eyes hidden behind the dark lenses.
“I—I don’t understand what’s going on.” It was the most I could say when I was this emotional and overwhelmed. “Would you care to explain?”
He dropped his chin again and looked at the table. “Let’s talk about this later.” He spoke in a quiet voice to muffle our conversation even though no one was around.
It was not the assurance I hoped for. “You mean like last night when I texted you and you ignored me? That probably would have been a good time.”
He crossed his arms over his chest.
“What is happening right now?”
