Jude knocked, and Duncan's voice called for them to enter. As the door swung open, Angela took a deep breath, steeling herself for whatever reaction might come from her father.
Jude opened the door, allowing Angela to enter first. Duncan was sitting behind his desk, papers spread before him, but he immediately set them aside when he saw them.
"That was quick," he said, rising from his chair. His eyes moved between them, clearly trying to read their expressions.
Angela's throat tightened. What could she say? That she'd confronted his ex-wife about abandoning their daughter? That she'd basically ruined any chance of having a relationship with her biological mother within the first thirty minutes of meeting her?
Duncan gestured toward the sitting area. "Have a seat and tell me all about it."
Angela sank into one of the leather chairs, the material cool against her palms as she gripped the armrests. Jude took the seat beside her rather than standing at attention as he sometimes did, which somehow made her feel both comforted and more nervous.
"How did it go?" Duncan asked, his gaze moving between her and Jude.
Before she could formulate a response, Jude spoke. "Angela was remarkable."
Heat crept up her neck at his words. Remarkable wasn't how she would describe what had happened.
"I…" she began, then faltered. "I’m not sure it went very well.”
Duncan's brow furrowed as he sat back down. "What happened?"
Angela twisted her hands in her lap, the silence stretching until it felt oppressive. How could she explain that she'd basically attacked Jill within minutes of meeting her? That she'd let her emotions take control and possibly destroyed any chance of establishing a relationship?
"I confronted her about Annie," she said finally, the words tumbling out in a rush. "About how she abandoned her after I was taken. I shouldn't have—I barely knew her. But she kept making these awful comments about Kiara and about how weneeded to change, and then she said it was different for mothers and I just…" She trailed off, pressing her lips together.
Duncan leaned forward, his expression intent but not angry. "What exactly did you say?"
Angela's stomach churned as she replayed the conversation. "I asked why she didn't want Annie. Why she didn't fight for visitation with her like she had with Julian. And I told her it was sad that I had a better relationship with the woman who kidnapped me than Annie had with her own mother."
The words hung in the air, and Angela braced herself for Duncan's reaction. She'd overstepped. She'd spoken out of turn about family dynamics that weren't hers to judge, no matter how much the injustice of it had burned in her chest.
But instead of anger, something that looked almost like pride flickered across Duncan's features. "And what did she say to that?"
"She said I wouldn't understand. That it was hard to look at Annie because she was a reminder of what she’d lost. I told her that you’d managed to do it. That you’d continued to look into Annie’s face and love her.”
Duncan’s expression softened. “And how did she respond?”
Angela shrugged. “She just said that it was different for a mother.”
Duncan was quiet for a long moment. Behind him, the fireplace crackled, the soft pops and hisses filling the silence as Angela waited for his judgment. He looked thoughtful rather than upset, his expression unreadable as he studied her.
She glanced at Jude, who sat calm and steady beside her, his presence a quiet reassurance.
"I'm sorry," she added quickly. "I know I should have been more diplomatic. I just—"
"Angela," Duncan interrupted gently. "You have nothing to apologize for."
She blinked, not sure she'd heard him correctly. "But I—"
"You stood up for your sister," he said. "And for yourself. That's not something to be sorry about. I'm proud of you.”
Angela blinked, certain she'd misheard him. "What?"
"I'm proud of you," he repeated, his voice firm. "You stood up for yourself and for your sister. That takes courage."
Relief washed through her so suddenly that Angela felt light-headed. She'd been so certain he would be disappointed, would tell her she'd ruined everything before it had a chance to begin.
"I thought you'd be upset," she admitted. "That I'd messed up any chance of having a relationship with her."
