Chapter 9
Hector
The penthouse was quiet when I returned. Mrs. Pearson met me in the entryway before I’d even set down my bag, her expression carrying something I couldn’t quite read.
“Welcome back, Mr. Valdez. Your trip went well, I hope?”
“Well enough.” I loosened my tie, already moving toward the stairs. “How’s Lily?”
“She’s been absolutely lovely.” The way she said it made me pause, because lovely wasn’t a word anyone used to describe my daughter’s behavior lately. Compliant, yes. Obedient, certainly. But lovely suggested something more.
“Lovely how?”
“More engaged, I’d say. More present. She’s been having more interactions with Ms. Tinsley.”
The mention of Sarah made something in my chest tighten, though I couldn’t say why.
“Where is she now?”
“In her room.”
I climbed the stairs and moved down the hallway to Lily’s door, which stood slightly ajar.
She sat cross-legged on her bed with her sketchbook, and when I knocked softly she looked up.
Her face didn’t close off the way it usually did when I appeared.
Instead, something that might have been a smile touched the corners of her mouth.
“I’m back,” I said, stepping inside. “Did you miss me?”
She nodded, then set aside her sketchbook and moved to the edge of her bed. Waiting.
I’d brought gifts because that’s what fathers did when they traveled, and I’d chosen carefully.
A set of professional colored pencils, she opened the case with careful fingers.
Her eyes went wide at the array of colors, and she immediately pulled out a shade of purple that looked exactly like the one she used in all her drawings.
“I thought you might like more options,” I said.
She nodded again, this time with more enthusiasm, and reached for the book. When she saw the cover showing paintings in vibrant colors, her expression brightened.
“There’s one more,” I said, pulling out the final gift. “I saw it and thought of you.”
It was a music box, small and delicate, with an intricate design carved into the wood. When you wound it up, it played Clair de Lune. Simple, beautiful, nothing that would remind her of things best left forgotten.
Lily took it with both hands like it was made of glass, and when she looked up at me, tears shone in her eyes.
“If you don’t like it, I can return it,” I said quickly. “I just thought—”
She shook her head hard, clutching the music box to her chest. Then she did something she hadn’t done in months. She reached out and wrapped her arms around me in a brief, tight hug before pulling back.
My throat went tight as I wrapped my arm around her. I couldn’t tell how long I held her, simply cherishing the moment where everything felt right again.
“I’ll let you look at your gifts. I need to unpack.” I said reluctantly.
She nodded and returned to examining the music box, already reaching for the key to wind it up.
I left her room and headed to my own, loosening my tie the rest of the way.
The trip had been successful in all the ways that mattered for business, but I felt more exhausted now than when I’d left.
Being away from Lily, even for a few days, stretched something in my chest that never quite relaxed until I saw her again.
I needed to put the last gift in her wardrobe, something I’d bought on impulse and immediately regretted.
A dress, soft blue with delicate embroidery, the kind Joana used to dress her in for special occasions.
I’d seen it in a shop window and bought it before logic could intervene, telling myself Lily needed nice clothes even if she never went anywhere to wear them.
I returned to her room silently. Her wardrobe stood against the far wall of her room, and I opened it quietly while she sat on her bed winding up the music box. The shelves were organized exactly how Mrs. Pearson kept them, everything folded and arranged by color and season.
That’s when I saw them.
Ballet shoes. Pink leather with ribbons, sitting on the shelf. Like they had every right to exist in my daughter’s space.
My hand closed around them before I’d fully processed what I was doing. These were new dancing shoes.
The temperature in the room seemed to drop twenty degrees, or maybe that was just my blood going cold. I turned to look at Lily, who had frozen with the music box key still in her hand. Her eyes were wide and fixed on the shoes I held, and her expression carried something that looked like terror.
“Where did these come from?”
She didn’t answer. Didn’t move. Just stared at those shoes like they might destroy her.
I left her room without another word, taking the shoes with me. My footsteps echoed as I descended the stairs, but everything inside me was screaming. Someone had brought ballet shoes into my home, into my daughter’s room, and I knew exactly who.
Mrs. Pearson was in the kitchen when I found her, and Gianna sat at the counter with her laptop. Both of them looked up when I entered, and both of them went very still when they saw what I held.
“Who brought these into my home?” My voice came out level, but something in it made Gianna’s eyes widen. “Who gave my daughter ballet shoes?”
Mrs. Pearson and Gianna exchanged a glance, the kind of silent communication that spoke of conspiracy.
“Mr. Valdez,” Mrs. Pearson started, her voice careful. “Lily has been doing much better lately. More engaged, more responsive. Perhaps—”
“I asked who gave her these shoes.”
Another glance between them. Gianna’s fingers twisted together in her lap, and Mrs. Pearson’s expression carried something that looked almost like pity.
But neither of them said Sarah’s name. They didn’t have to.
The leather was soft against my palm—innocuous, just an object. But objects carried meaning, and these particular objects carried memories I’d spent two years trying to bury.
Lily crying in her doorway, staring at her ballet clothes with tears streaming down her face. The silent, broken sobs that shook her small body while I stood helpless, unable to fix what was breaking inside her. The way she’d look at those clothes like they were weapons pointed at her heart.
So I’d removed them. Burned them. Taken away everything that made her cry.
The doorbell rang, and I heard Gianna move to answer it. Voices drifted from the entryway, and then I heard it. Sarah’s voice, humming something light and cheerful like she didn’t have a care in the world.
Like she hadn’t just violated every boundary I’d set.
“Ms. Tinsley,” I said, stepping into the entryway. “My office. Now.”
The humming stopped. She turned to look at me, and whatever she saw in my face made her smile disappear. “I don’t have a session today. I just came to drop off some worksheets for Lily—”
“My office.” I didn’t raise my voice. “Now.”
She followed me down the hallway, her footsteps uncertain behind mine. When we reached my office, I held the door open and waited until she’d entered before closing it with a controlled click.
Then I held up the ballet shoes.
“What are these doing in my daughter’s room?”
Her eyes went to the shoes, and I watched recognition cross her face. Watched her spine straighten as she prepared to defend herself.
“Those are ballet shoes,” she said, like I might be too stupid to identify them myself. “Lily’s been working with them during our sessions.”
“You brought ballet shoes into my home without my permission?”
“You weren’t here to ask permission from.” Her voice carried an edge I’d heard before, that defensive sharpness she used when cornered. “And Lily wanted to dance, so I helped her.”
“You helped her?” The words tasted bitter on my tongue.
Something in her expression flickered. “I took her to a dance studio. Just once. She needed—”
“You took her where?” The question came out too loud, anger bolting through me at the confession. “You took my daughter to a dance studio without telling me? Who the hell do you think you are?”
“I’m someone who pays attention to what Lily needs!” Her voice rose to match mine. “I see a child crying because she misses something she loved and tries to help instead of just taking everything away!”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Then explain it to me!” She stepped closer, and I could see the anger burning in her eyes now. “Explain why letting your daughter do something that makes her happy is such a terrible crime!”
“Because it makes her cry!” The words exploded out before I could stop them.
“Because every time she saw those shoes, those clothes, she would stand in her doorway and cry silent tears that I couldn’t stop.
So yes, I took them away. I removed everything that hurt her because that’s what fathers do. They protect their children from pain.”
“But you didn’t see her at the studio.” Sarah’s voice softened slightly, though anger still simmered beneath it. “She smiled, Hector. And yes, she cried—but they were tears of joy.” Tears of remembering something beautiful instead of just remembering loss.”
“You made my daughter cry.” My hands were shaking now, and I pressed them flat against my desk. “You brought her to a place that caused her pain. You gave her shoes that remind her of her mother’s death. And you think that’s helping?”
“Her mother’s death?” Confusion crossed Sarah’s face. “What does dancing have to do with—”
“Everything!” The word came out harsher than I intended. “Get out.”
“Hector—”
“You’re fired.” I inhaled raggedly. “We’re done. You can’t follow simple instructions.”
Her face went pale, and for a second something like hurt flickered across her features. Her eyes filled with tears, though only one escaped before she blinked the rest back.
“Fine.” Her voice barely made it past her throat. “Fine. I hope you’re happy, Hector. I hope this makes you feel better about yourself.”
She turned and walked out, and I heard her footsteps moving quickly down the hallway. Heard the front door open and close.
Only then did I notice the small figure standing in my office doorway.
Lily. Her eyes were fixed on the hallway where Sarah had disappeared, and her expression carried something I’d never seen before. Not sadness. Not confusion. Something closer to betrayal.
I moved toward her, reaching out. “Lily, I can explain—”
She flinched away from me, the movement slicing through me like a knife between the ribs. I stopped, hand still extended, and watched my daughter back away from me like I was dangerous.
“Sweetheart, please. I was protecting you. I was trying to keep you safe.”
She turned and ran to her room, and I followed but she was faster.
By the time I reached her doorway, she’d already grabbed her headphones and curled up on her bed, facing the wall.
The headphones went over her ears, blocking me out, and she pulled her knees to her chest in a position that said stay away clearer than words ever could.
“Lily.” I stepped into the room. “Lily, look at me. Please.”
She didn’t move. Didn’t acknowledge me. Just lay there with her back to me, shutting me out as completely as if she’d locked the door.
I stood in that doorway for I don’t know how long, watching my daughter retreat into herself, and felt something in my chest crack apart. This was active withdrawal, conscious rejection. Lily was choosing to shut me out, and I had no idea how to reach her.
Thunder rumbled outside, low and threatening. I backed out of her room and closed the door quietly, then stood in the hallway trying to remember how to breathe.
Mrs. Pearson appeared at my elbow like she’d been summoned. “Mr. Valdez? Is everything alright?”
“Watch Lily.” My voice sounded wrong, distant. “Make sure she’s okay.”
“Of course, but where are you—”
“I need to go out.”
I left before she could ask more questions, taking the stairs down two at a time. The guilt was already setting in, sharp and insistent. Maybe I’d overreacted. Maybe Sarah had been right, and I’d just destroyed the one good thing in Lily’s life because I was too afraid to let her heal.
The rain had started by the time I reached the ground floor, and through the lobby windows I could see it coming down in sheets. Thunder cracked again, closer this time.
My driver was already pulling the car around when I stepped outside, and the rain soaked through my jacket in seconds.
“Where to, sir?”
“Ms. Tinsley’s apartment.” I gave him the address I’d memorized from her employment file. “Quickly.”