Getting to know Claire felt like a dream. Sleeping with her and learning her quirks pleased me. Her submission hadn’t waned, and we were exploring all the different styles of making love that she was ready to try with me.
With the exception of Jack at large, life was almost perfect.
Almost.
Because I still needed to be considerate of bridging myself to Anya.
Claire encouraged me to approach her, to talk to her, but I was hesitant. I didn’t want to repeat the mistake of begging her to spend time with me. I wasn’t in a rush to put myself out there for her to be sullen and dismiss me again.
Because she was a representative of Olga, of the woman who’d run from me because I was an unlovable and unwanted monster, it was harder to make that first move. I couldn’t summon the courage to take the initiative where she was concerned.
After witnessing how well Claire and Anya got along, though, I was inspired to really devote some attention to my daughter. Overhearing them talking about parents was informative for me. When Anya asked Claire if her father would’ve approved of me, I was honestly moved with how honest Claire was.
She had come from a different world and we shouldn’t have ever hit it off as well as we had, but here we were, fighting for love to last.
I could fight with or for Anya, too. Recalling how risky yet freeing it was to offer Claire the chance to leave me, I wondered if I could give my daughter the same respect.
Instead of insisting that Anya come to dinner, I “used” Andre. He didn’t question why I needed him to ask Anya to join him for the family meal. I never had to go out of my way to spell anything out for him.
But when Anya arrived, she glanced at Claire and sat near her.
We ate and talked—like usual. As the meal wound down, though, I cleared my throat and looked at her.
“Anya, I’d like to offer you something I should’ve considered since the moment you moved here.”
She furrowed her brow, not replying. She got that trait from me, just like Andre did. Somehow, like us, she knew that if someone wanted her to know something, she only had to wait them out.
“I’ve been focusing on giving you a safe choice to live freely.”
She raised her brows. “Freely?”
“She’s not a prisoner,” Claire chided.
“No. But when she arrived, that was her interpretation of living here.” When Claire opened her mouth to speak again, I held my hand up to cut her off. “I don’t blame you for having that view,” I told my daughter. “I was well aware of how prejudiced your relatives were. They hated me ever since my father had the audacity to die and mandate on his deathbed that I honor an old marriage arrangement. I expected all of that.”
“Interpretations can change,” she said, looking at Claire briefly.
“They can. But I realize how futile it is to compete with your lifetime of judgment against me. It’s not fair to either of us if you are truly miserable here.” I cleared my throat. “I won’t force you to act like a loving daughter. I won’t coerce you into doing anything you don’t want.”
“What are you getting at, Father?” Andre asked.
“Anya,” I told her, “you can leave this building and this life. You can shed the title of being my daughter and forfeit this antagonism that had been bred in your mind for years. If youwant, I will arrange for a guardian I can trust. Not someone from your mother’s family, if any of them are still around. I can locate a suitable guardian not affiliated with any Mafia family. You can strike out and start your new life without the stain of having me as your father.”
She stared at me, speechless. Claire took my hand and held it.
“I will provide every financial and material resource you could ever need,” I added.
“What’s the other option?” Andre asked, invested in his sister’s life.
“Or you can stay and understand that I can be patient and give you as much space and room as you need.”
Laying out these options felt eerily similar to how I’d given Claire her ultimatum. To either go and never look back or to stay and figure out this thing called life with me.
It was a risk. It was a gamble, but it was one I knew I had to take a chance on.
I had convinced myself that giving Claire the permission to leave was a sign of love. That I loved her enough to want her to be happy, in whatever format that would come.
Now, I was applying the same selflessness to my daughter. I wanted her happy, and it was so obvious she wasn’t happy here.
