“There is no money.” I stepped closer to him, close enough to see the way his jaw tightened. “You cut me off, remember? You told me another scandal and I was done. Well, here I am. Pregnant. Unmarried. Living with the father of my child. Every scandal you warned me about, all at once. And you know what happened?”
I waited. He didn’t answer.
“Hestayed.” My voice cracked. “Kick stayed. Not because of money—there isn’t any. Not because of status or connections or any of the things you think matter. He stayed because he loves me. Because he wants to be a father to our daughter. Because when I pushed him away, he refused to go.”
“He’s using you.”
“For what?” My laugh sounded harsh and bitter. “I have nothing. You made sure of that. You said it yourself. I have no trust fund, no inheritance, no access to Van Orr money. I’m worthless by your standards. And he stayed anyway.”
I thought about Kick tracking me to Whitmore when I’d lied about going to Italy. Refusing to leave even when I begged him to. Holding my hand in the hospital when I thought I was losing the baby, his demeanor steady even though I could see the fear in his eyes.
I thought about his mother calling memija. About Alex and his sisters-in-law making room for me at their table. About a whole family opening their arms to a woman who’d given them no reason to even like her.
“He stayed,” I said. “And he never once made me feel like I had to earn his love.”
I wiped my eyes again.
“You wouldn’t recognize love because you’ve never given it. Not to me anyway. Maybe you did to my mother. But you made sure she held herself away from me too. You took control and manipulated her.”
I felt sick to my stomach and relieved at the same time when he didn’t deny it.
I looked up at the person I no longer thought of as my father. He was just a man. As if it happened in an instant, he looked pale, almost frail, to me now. I’d never spoken to him the way I was. I’d never yelled, never pushed back, never said the things that had been building inside me since I was old enough to feel the pain of his wrath.
But I wasn’t finished.
“My mother died, and you disappeared.” Years of grief and anger rose to the surface. “I was twenty-two years old and an orphan. She wasn’t the only one who died; you might as well have too.”
Baron’s hand shook, and he set his glass on a table beside him.
“I needed a father. I needed someone to tell me it was going to be okay, that we would get through it together. And you gave me a checkbook. You gave me a credit card and a pat on the head, and you sent me away because you couldn’t stand to look at me.”
“That’s not true?—”
“I look just like her.”My voice broke. “I know that. Every time you looked at me, you saw her. And you couldn’t stand it. You wished she were still alive. Ifyou could have, you would’ve traded my life for hers in a heartbeat.”
“I was grieving?—”
“So was I!” I shouted. “And you let me know in no uncertain terms that I would vanish into thin air. No longer be a weight of responsibility around your neck. No longer be a reminder of the one person you actually loved.”
I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand. I hadn’t meant to cry. Hadn’t wanted to give him that. But the tears came anyway.
“I spent my whole life waiting for something you’re incapable of giving. The sadder part is, neither of you was capable of it,” I said. “But I’m done. I found someone who fills all the empty spaces inside of me, and to him, it comes naturally because helovesme.”
“Isabel—”
“I’m keeping my baby.” My hand moved to my stomach. “I’m staying with Kick. I’m building a life that has nothing to do with you. You’re as dead to me as my mother is.”
Baron’s face was closed off as if he felt nothing. As if what I’d said meant nothing.
“You’re overly emotional,” he said. “You’re not thinking clearly. It’s the pregnancy—hormones, stress. Once you’ve had time to calm down, you’ll see that I’m right.”
“I’ve never been more clear on anything in my life.”
“We’re leaving.” He moved toward the door, gesturing for me to follow. “The plane is waiting. We’ll go to Italy, to the villa. You can rest there, away from all this chaos. Away from him. And when the baby comes, we’ll discuss options.”
“Options?” I didn’t move. “What options?”
“Adoption. A good family. People who can give the child what it deserves.” He spoke as if he were discussing a business arrangement rather than my baby’s future. “You’re not ready to be a mother, Isabel. You know that. Deep down, you know.”
