Chapter Thirty-Three
Maron
I can’t fucking breathe.
My eyes squeeze shut, as if I could block out this reality by sheer force of will. But when I open them again, Mindy is still here, her focus steady, waiting.
You have a daughter, mudak.
A daughter from Mindy.
Sharon is your daughter.
Of course, she is. It all makes sense now. The inexplicable pull I felt toward her, the connection I couldn’t explain, and her seemingly random resemblance to Cordelia. A bond that the deepest part of my brain, my gut, my very viscera could feel - but my conscious mind never understood.
"When did you find out you were pregnant?" I finally manage to ask, but it comes out as a hoarse croak.
"Months... after the Tramoxine launch. After you left," she replies.
My throat tightens and something in me snaps. I left? I didn’t leave. She did. She fucking betrayed me. And now she’s telling me that I had a daughter all this time and she never once thought to mention that to me?
"Why didn’t you tell me, Mindy?" I ask, trying to hide the tension in my tone.
"Tell you what?" she asks.
"That I have a daughter. Why?"
Her brow furrows as she tilts her head. Her expression shifts to confused, her lips pressing into a thin line. She studies my face, clearly baffled by what I’m asking, as if I’m speaking a foreign language she doesn’t understand.
"You’re kidding, right?" She asks. "Do you really not know the answer to that?"
"I’m her father, Mindy. It was my right to know. And you kept her away from me," I tell her, struggling to control my rising temper.
"What the hell are you talking about, Maron?" She snaps and something flickers in her eyes. "In case you forgot, I thought you were dead!"
"You thought?" I bark, my temper rising further. "What about my family? Timofey? My mother? Don’t you think you should have reached out to them?"
She gapes at me in disbelief, but I’m past caring. I can’t believe she’s done this. She stole the last seven years from me and Sharon. She kept us apart all this time. And if I hadn’t found her and Sharon in that fucking hospital room, she’d still be keeping my daughter away from me.
"Are you fucking serious right now, Maron?" She asks, her face contorted by confusion. "Don’t you think I wanted to give Sharon the father she never had?"
"My fucking point exactly!" I fire back. "Sharon deserved to know her father just like I deserved to know her. And never once did you think to try to find me?"
"I thought you were dead, you maniac! How can you not understand-"
"Don’t you fucking maniac me," I roar. "You kept my child from me for seven fucking years! You fucking stole that from me and Sharon!"
Mindy suddenly goes quiet and she stares at me. Her mouth opens and closes. She shakes her head. "I can’t believe you’re doing this," she whispers, but I’m not having any of her shit.
There’s no excuse for what she’s done. She stole all those years away from me and my daughter. She could have had a father. And I could have had a daughter. We could have gotten to know each other and be in each other’s life. We’ll never get those years back. They’re gone.
Ublyudok!
"Get out of my house," I growl, struggling to keep my rage at bay. She stands frozen, staring at me like I’m speaking gibberish. I can see the confusion and hurt in her eyes, but I no longer give a fuck.
"You don’t mean that," she whispers, not even trying to hide her distress.
My response is eerily calm. "Get the fuck out of my house. Now."