Chapter 5
Chapter Five
Daisy present day
It was raining.
Which explained the water running down my face. It wasn’t tears. Although I knew I should probably cry for my father, I just couldn’t bring myself to.
A lot had changed in six years. I had changed. Which was kind of a given seeing everything I had been through.
Straightening my shoulders, I stared down at the polished marble tombstone.
He had been dead for months before I had even found out, but that wasn’t that surprising.
It wasn’t like I had stayed in contact with anyone from my past. I was still Daisy.
But these days I went by Dr. Daisy Sinclair, Ph.D.
The thought made a smile tug at the corners of my mouth. I’d got my Ph.D.; my dad, if he had bothered to stay in contact, would have been proud. Or maybe it was the man he used to be, the one who gave a damn, that would have cared.
I hadn’t seen that man in a long, long time. Not since I had been dragged into an office and left. Payment for debts that weren’t mine.
Still, a pang of guilt twisted my stomach. He had been my dad. I loved him. And now I would never get the chance to forgive him and tell him.
"I did it, Daddy," I whispered into the rain. And I didn’t know who I was talking to.
It just felt important that I said it out loud.
"I have the job I always wanted. The life you wanted for me. I wish you could have seen me succeed." Finally, the tears came. But not really for him. More for myself. I’d spent the last six years hating the man I had idolized my entire life. I’d never forgiven him.
Now I wished I had, because he would have died thinking I hated him.
I didn’t hate anyone. Not really. I always remembered Ilya's words that first night, when he said we all have a choice. I had chosen to agree to those terms.
I’d had to live with that choice for six years.
Still, I wished our last meeting wasn’t him being dragged out of a room before I was locked in with a monster, who would ruin me so completely that it was painful to look back at.
Ilya.
Beautiful, cold, good-for-nothing liar that was Ilya. The man who had made me love him so completely that I had believed everything he told me.
What an absolute fool I’d been over him.
I had forced myself to never think about him.
I’d pushed him out of my mind so completely that sometimes I almost believed myself when I said I didn’t ever love him.
But I woke up sobbing in the middle of the night over what I had lost. There were no photos to look at.
All I had was my memories, and as the years went by, they grew fuzzy.
Had my baby had dark hair like his dad, or strawberry blonde like me? I’d only gotten a glimpse. And it felt so long ago.
The threats still lingered in my heart, though. I knew coming here was a risk, but what choice did I have? My dad was dead. It was a fluke that I had even seen his obituary. No one had told me he had passed.
No one in the States even tried. To them, I no longer existed.
And that’s the way it had to be. I’d close Dad's house up and leave. I wouldn’t come back. It was just too painful.
Scrubbing the heels of my hands against my cheeks to wipe away the tears, I straightened my shoulders and turned on my heel.
And bumped straight into someone. The small body gave a cry that wrenched at my heart and toppled backwards onto his bum.
"Hey." Crouching down, my heels sinking into the wet grass, I reached for him. Gathering the little body into my arms, and hugging him tight. "Hey, it’s okay." My gloved hand smoothed up and down his back as he continued to cry. "I didn’t see you there. Did I hurt you?"
He shook his head, hiccuping loudly, and broke down again, hiding his face in my coat.
"It’s okay," I said again. "Are you lost? Did you wander away from your mom?"
"Papa." His voice was barely audible.
"Okay, your papa then. Come on, I’ll help you find him.
" Holding him out at arm's length, I smiled.
"Hey there, it’s going to be okay." I kept saying the same words, but I couldn’t seem to help myself.
He was so scared. He was literally vibrating with it.
And he looked so small and lost. Scooping him up, I turned in a circle, spotting a group of black-clad mourners in the distance.
"Are you here to say goodbye to someone?
" I asked softly as I began to walk towards them.
"It can be scary, right? You must be sad, but you shouldn’t wander away; your papa will be worried about you. "
"Grandpa." His voice was muffled because his face was buried in my shoulder. His tears were wetting my dark coat. Not that I minded. Things could be dry-cleaned. What was important was getting this little man to his family. I couldn’t imagine what they were going through.
Or maybe I could, because the memory of losing my son haunted me every single day.
"Your grandpa died?" I whispered.
He nodded. "Last year. We visit on his—"
He lifted his head finally, and my eyes dropped to it. I froze.
Angular face, full lips, and a flop of dark hair that looked almost black. Even the shape of his nose was instantly familiar to me.
My stomach lurched, and a sob ripped its way out of my throat.
It couldn’t be. It couldn’t.
But there was no denying it.
My son looked back at me with his father's face and my exact eyes. I stumbled backwards, hands shaking so much he was jostled in my arms as I looked around wildly.
If he was here, then so was—
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him. Striding between the gravestones like some kind of avenging angel.
"Alexander." His voice was clipped. Not angry, not cold. But tinged with worry. "You can’t run off like that, you—" He seemed to see me. His icy blue eyes widening in shock.
Ilya.
It couldn’t be. It couldn’t.
But it was.
He hadn’t changed that much. His shoulders seemed wider under his black wool coat, there was stubble on his face now, and his eyes.
I swallowed hard.
God, those icy eyes were like glaciers as he stared at me with our son in my arms for the first time ever.
"Go to your Dad—" I tried to say the words, but they wouldn’t come out. My throat worked, and my lips opened and closed, but not a sound came out.
Because I knew I was looking into the face of the man who was going to kill me.