“Thank you,” I said simply.
He nodded, studying me with eyes that missed nothing. “You’re different.”
“Am I?”
“You’re quieter. More thoughtful.” He placed a hand on my shoulder. “Pain changes people, Chrysanthos.”
That afternoon brought news that Angela Christakis had taken the Alford plea deal offered by prosecutors, resulting in a mere five-year sentence. The family’s reaction was immediate and fierce.
Yiayia’s hands trembled as she traced the edge of her teacup. “Five years,” she whispered. “That’s all his life was worth to them?”
Though relieved to have some justice, my father, uncles and Matthaios thought the punishment woefully inadequate for the destruction she’d caused. With the legal battle effectively over, our anger had nowhere to go.
As the evening descended upon New York, I found myself standing on the penthouse balcony, my newly freed wrist still bearing the marks of three weeks’ captivity. Below, the city sprawled with lights, each one representing lives continuing without pause or awareness of my personal catastrophe.
“Here,” my father said, appearing beside me with two crystal tumblers. He handed one to me, then leaned against the railing. “You look like you need this.”
I accepted the drink silently, savoring the burn as it slid down my throat. We stood together, watching the city lights flicker against the darkening sky.
“I called her today,” I admitted. “After you removed the cuffs.”
My father’s eyebrow raised slightly. “And?”
“Straight to voicemail.” The rejection stung as freshly as it had the first time.
“What did you expect?” His voice held no judgment.
I swirled the amber liquid in my glass. “I don’t know anymore.”
The silence stretched between us, not uncomfortable.
“Did you know,” my father began, his gaze fixed on the horizon, “that when I met your mother, I was engaged to someone else?”
I turned to him, surprised. He’d rarely spoken of my mother beyond practical facts.
“Her name was Helena. Society match, compatible families.” He took another sip. “Then I met Lydia at a gallery opening. Your mother challenged everything I thought I knew.” A faint smile touched his lips. “Two weeks later, I broke my engagement.”
“Why are you telling me this now?”
“Because I understand obsession. The all-consuming need to be with someone.” He turned to face me fully. “But there’s a difference between pursuing someone because you truly love them and pursuing them because you can’t accept losing.”
His words gave me pause. Love or pride? Which one drove me?
“When your mother died,” he continued, his voice softening, “I could have become bitter, resentful. Instead, I focused on raising you, becoming worthy of the love she gave me.”
“By being deserving of it,” I whispered, understanding dawning.
My father nodded. “Exactly. Not by demanding it, but by deserving it.”
If there was any chance of redemption with Tia, it wouldn’t come from desperate calls or grand gestures. It would come from being honorable to her.
27
A muffled thud jolted me awake.
For a disorienting moment, I thought I was back in Greece. My heart jumped, then sank. Not Thalassía. Not Santo. Just my American bedroom, all shadows and silence.
I blinked at the digital clock: 7:17 AM.
