“Robert’s memory did not trump my right to know about my nephew.” Every word was slow and precise. Maile swept out of the room, her feet heavy.
Livvy rubbed her face. “God.”
Tani stared down at the tablecloth. “I’m so sorry all of this happened on the eve of your wedding, Olivia.”
Livvy’s laugh was humorless. “It wasn’t the best timing, for sure. This is the first time I’ve believed in the curse.”
Oof. A curse. His existence was that bad?
Rhi leaned forward, probably to take issue with Livvy’s framing, and he gave her a sharp shake of his head. There didn’t need to be any more conflict. Not tonight. Without another word, he got up and left the room.
Eve wasn’t sure what she was planning on saying when she ran after her father. She should have a speech or a blueprint for what she hoped was a final showdown, but her brain was blank. Except for rage and fury and an odd satisfaction.
All these years, Eve had wondered why Maria and Robert had been on that road together. She’d had to grow up listening to gossip and wild speculation, smiling in the face of the cruelest comments.
Her mother had been leaving Brendan. She’d wanted to take Eve with her.
Silly for a grown woman to have abandonment issues over her mother dying. But those had eased, the mystery solved. Her mother had never meant to leave her.
And Brendan... She’d been so certain the man had hated her because she looked like her mother, because he’d loved the woman. But no. It made more sense that he hated her because he’d hated Maria. But either way, it had nothing to do with Eve. She wasn’t the terrible one.
She might not need someone else’s love to tell her she was lovable, but it helped to have it. And plenty of wonderful people loved her. This house was full of them.
She darted past Alistair and a maid, uncaring of what they thought about her tearing through the mansion. She cleared the front door and spied Brendan almost at his car. “Hey,” she shouted. It didn’t sound like her, because polished, rich women didn’t shout. They whispered or smiled sweetly or cut silently.
But shouting was effective as well as cathartic. Brendan halted and turned around, his face incredulous.
She came to a stop a few feet away and stared at him. The shell was there, waiting for her, and part of her wanted to crawl into it. She didn’t fault herself for that part of her, though, because she finally understood the shell wasn’t necessarily a horrible thing. It was a protective mechanism, that was all. It had kept her alive and functioning when the world wanted to poke and hurt her. It was a part of her, and maybe not a part of herself that she needed to find disgusting or bad.
“You’re not my father.” The words were flat, and she meant every single one. “I mean, I know you are, biologically, but you’re not my father in any other way that matters.”
“Don’t be so—”
“I will be dramatic. You are cruel and unkind. You’ve hurt me in ways that no parent should hurt a child.”
A muscle ticked in Brendan’s cheek. “You’re acting like I abused you.”
He never raised a hand to me.Her usual excuse for this man. She wrapped her fingers around her bare wrist, her pulse giving her strength. “You did,” she said softly. “When I was twelve, and you made me cut up that dress for no reason. When I was fifteen, and you told me to stop making a big deal out of being sick, that everyone got the flu. When I was seventeen, and the housekeeper told you I was sad that a boy was mean to me, and you told me I should consider losing some weight if I wanted to be even moderately appealing to men. God. I could go on and on.”
His face tightened. “You foolish—”
“I’m not foolish. I’m smart. You underestimated me.”
“Did I?” He rolled his eyes. “Evangeline, I am sorry I never heaped praise on you and gave you medals for breathing. I wanted you to be tough.”
Her first instinct was to flinch away and hide at his caustic sarcasm, but she straightened. “I don’t want medals or praise. I am tough and smart, and it’s no thanks to you.”
He snorted, and turned away. Maybe it was how mad she was on Gabe’s behalf, or maybe it was anger for herself, but she saw red at the clear dismissal. “I’m smarter than you.” She nodded when he glanced at her. “That mysterious leak to the news about Chandler’s using prison labor for some of their goods? Who do you think did that?”
A footstep scraped behind her. She glanced over her shoulder to find Nicholas and John standing there, staring at her nonplussed. “Eve, you undermined our company?” Nicholas said in disbelief.
Uh-oh. A bit of rational thought pierced her rage. She hadn’t particularly intended to confess this, but since it had stopped her father in his tracks, she couldn’t take it back. “No, Nicholas. I made it possible for you to get what you needed.” She shook her head. “Managing this asshole—” she hooked her thumb, loving the sputtering that came from their father as well as the swear word on her lips “—was taking all your time and resources. So yeah, occasionally I leaked a little news to put pressure on him. So you could do what you needed to do.”
“You—”
She glared at Brendan. “You made me feel scared and small and timid. You made me question every emotion I ever had.” She blinked, not caring that tears were streaming down her face. Those tears were cleansing. Powerful. “You made me feel like something was wrong with me. But nothing is wrong with me. I’m fine. And I feel nothing for you. No desire for a relationship. No hunger for affection. I did, once. But not anymore.” It was like something inside her uncoiled as she spoke, freeing her. Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Goodbye.”
A big hand settled on her waist, and Nicholas stepped up next to her. His gaze was as distant as she felt.
