22. Duncan
22
DUNCAN
Manhattan, New York
When things get rough, I retreat into my gilded cage. Not only is it familiar, but it signifies stability security. It’s everything I worked for, everything I ever wanted.
Or, it was .
Times change. People change. But more importantly, I’ve changed. Now, everything I’ve ever wanted is only a thirteen-hour drive away. Yet here I am, hiding in my gilded cage like a coward. The solitude mocks me, only this time, I have myself to blame for that.
Manhattan’s city lights stretch out before me, a sea of gold and silver against the night sky. The city’s pulse is as frantic as mine, but for once, it feels like I’m the one who’s standing still. I’ve been trying to make sense of everything that’s happened in the past few days, yet it’s the coldness of Odette’s abrupt departure that haunts me the most.
I can’t get the words I said out of my head. How I threatened her, how I let the anger take over when all I wanted was to make things right. There’s so much I wanted her to stay, but I couldn’t get out of my own way. First, I pushed her, then I pushed too hard and she left me, taking everything with her.
Leaning against the window, I clench my hands into fists. The anger is still there, but now it’s focused inward, on myself. Regret is a heavy cross to bear. I shouldn’t have said what I said about Aurora’s adoption. Or any of it, really. Blaming it on the shock of finding out I’d fathered another child is a cowardly move. Now that I’ve had some time and clarity to think about it, I never did give her a proper chance back then. I left her, so it’s not my place to question the choices she made with the resources she had at the time.
She’s a force to be reckoned with. I don’t just want her, I need her. I need her in my life. I want a future with her. I want a family. I want to make this work so bad, but I know I can’t do it alone. I’ve spent too long at odds with my children, and it’s past time I make things right.
Ten years ago, I thought I had everything figured out. I thought I knew who I was, what I wanted. But the moment she walked into my life, everything changed. She’s been with and in me this whole time, even when she wasn’t physically present. I never imagined she had been so close to me this whole time, that she had been watching over the things that mattered most.
The worst part? The part I’ve been too scared to admit even to myself?
I love her. I’ve always loved her.
But she’s gone now, and it’s all my fault.
I think of Caleb and Chloe, of how I failed them as a father. Now that I know just how entwined their lives are, if I can fix things with them, perhaps it’ll help repair the bridge between me and Odette. Or vice versa.
The doorbell rings, snapping me out of my thoughts, and I get up to answer it, dreading who might be standing on the other side. Everyone was told I’d be indisposed until the New Year. Still, I pull it open without bothering to look through the peephole.
I know I fucked this one up majorly, when Caleb and Chloe show up at my doorstep together , both wearing identical grim expressions. My heart skips, and for a second, I think I’m going to be sick.
Caleb looks like I feel, like someone who’s been put through the ringer. Or, in his case, like someone who’s crossed five time zones in a short time. As usual, he doesn’t say a word, Chloe does.
“We need to talk,” is all she says.
She’s livid, like she was the day she found the article from the interview three decades ago — the one that prompted Sydney to leave me back then.
I step aside, letting them into the penthouse, the tension between us palpable. They both move past me, not waiting for an invitation to sit. Caleb heads straight for the couch, sitting down stiffly, while Chloe stands by the window with her arms crossed, staring out at the city below. Her posture is defensive, like she’s preparing for battle. It’s a stance I’ve seen a thousand times before, a silent challenge that tells me she’s ready to go toe to toe.
“Can I get you anything? Drink? Water?” I offer, as if that could ease the tension simmering between us.
Chloe doesn’t even look at me. “This isn’t a social call.”
“Yeah, I figured.” I let out a small, strained chuckle, though there’s no humor in it. “It’s been, what, eight years since you two came here together? That wasn’t a social call either.”
Caleb speaks up, his tone flat like his sister’s. “We wanted to cash in on our trust funds early, and you wouldn’t let us do that without your signature.”
“You could’ve waited a few more months, until you turned twenty-five. Your mother put that stipulation on your accounts, not me.”
“We’re not going to split hairs on that,” Chloe interjects. “And frankly, I’m surprised you didn’t know that money was for Odette, seeing as you’ve always been a nosy bastard.”
She’s not wrong. But… “You both told me not to pry.”
“And you actually listened,” she deadpans.
“Well, yeah.”
“It was over a million dollars! How stupid do you think we are?”
“I trusted your judgment. I always have.”
“Figures.” She scoffs, her voice bitter. “You would have, if it had been your money.”
My jaw clenches, and I feel the anger rising, but I bite it back. There’s too much truth in what she’s saying. Only, it sounds way worse when she phrases it like that, but Caleb speaks up before I can respond.
“We didn’t come here to fight.” His eyes meet mine, his expression unreadable. “But just so we’re all on the same page, that money was for Odette, to pay off the hundreds of thousands of dollars in medical bills she racked up due to complications from having Aurora. Our sister. Your daughter. For someone who hates kids, why do you keep having them?”
The words hit me like a slap in the face. “I?—”
He holds up a hand. “Then there were the legal fees from putting our sister up for adoption and making sure it was iron-clad, so that someone like you or the fucking Ehrenbergs couldn’t just waltz in and undo all of it. She almost died. Twice. And every time she ended up in the hospital, the bills just kept piling on. So yeah, she needed that money, and we were happy to give it to her. It’s one of the few times having a billionaire for a father actually came in handy.”
I stopped listening at ‘ she almost died twice .’ My mind races as it tries to process what they’re saying, but all I can think of is how little I know about their lives, and about everything Odette has been through. Had I taken a more active interest in my children’s lives instead of a hands-off approach, I would’ve known. But I never asked. I never pushed. Now, I wish I had.
“I didn’t know,” I mumble, the words coming out hoarse.
Chloe scoffs a second time, a bitter laugh escaping her lips. “Of course you didn’t. Because you ghosted Odette.”
“I didn’t?—”
“In case this,” Caleb gestures between his sister and himself, “isn’t clear enough, Odette is our family. We consider her our sister. We always have, and we will not stand by if anyone hurts her. Not even our dad .”
I grit my teeth, anger rising in my chest, but I force it back down. “This isn’t about that,” I force out through clenched teeth. “You don’t understand.”
Chloe spins on her heels, her eyes narrowing. “Aurora is not your do-over baby, Dad . You don’t get to show up now and claim her, because you want to fix your past mistakes. She’s not some second chance for you to get things right. She has parents who love her, who actually want her.”
The words stifle me, leaving me breathless for a moment. I open my mouth to defend myself, but nothing comes out. Even though I know she’s right, I want to argue my point, to tell them that I just want to be a part of Aurora’s life. Why should they believe me? My track record stinks.
“I know that too,” I whisper, “All I want is to be part of her life. Like you are.”
Caleb cuts in, his eyes hardening. “ Do you? You threatened to void her adoption, even though you know you have no legal standing.”
My stomach drops, and I stagger back. The guilt cuts deeper. I know now that I didn’t mean what I said, at least not the way they think I did. But the fact that I even said it? I can’t take that back.
“I didn’t mean?—”
Chloe jumps in. “Again, how stupid do you think we are? You use money to control people. I wouldn’t put it past you to drag everyone through a long custody battle — which you’d lose, by the way — all because you can and have the money to burn. And at the end of the day, you know exactly what it would do to that little girl. You know that’s not in Aurora’s best interest, so don’t pretend otherwise.”
I want to argue. I want to scream that I didn’t mean it, that I’m not that person anymore, but the words get stuck in my throat. They’re right. I’ve spent my life thinking money could solve everything, could give me control. But this… this is different.
Caleb leans back against the couch, his expression guarded. “I never understood why Mom didn’t tell us about you until she was dying. I didn’t get it back then, but I do now. It was the hardest decision she ever made, for us. To keep us together, to keep us safe. She didn’t want us to end up in foster care. They would’ve split us up in a heartbeat. She probably figured as long as Chloe and I stayed together, living under your roof wouldn’t be as bad as it would’ve been had we gone into the system.”
He pauses for a moment, then blows out a breath. “I’m ashamed to admit that I didn’t understand it then, but I do now. And it’s all because of Odette. Because of her selfless sacrifices. I understand it now, why she does what she does, and I’m thankful for it. As children raised in a situation adjacent to Aurora’s, we would have resented you if you tried or threatened to take us away from Mom during those formative years.”
My heart sinks as he speaks. Truth is, I never thought about it from their perspective. I never thought about how my absence affected them. How my choices shaped their lives. All the walls I’d been hiding behind, all the rationalizations I used to justify my actions, it all crumbles around me. There’s nowhere to run now.
No more excuses. Only truths.
“I don’t know what to say,” I finally manage.
“You don’t have to say anything. I just need you to understand this: Aurora didn’t ask for any of this. She didn’t ask to be born, to be part of your mess. She’s a child, not some trophy for you to parade around. She’s not yours to control, and she doesn’t deserve be used as a bargaining chip, or as a means for you to control her mother. You have no right to tear her away from her family now , all because you suddenly decided you want a relationship with her mother. I don’t have kids of my own, but even I know that’s not what it means to be a parent. And if you do this, the one who gets the most is Aurora. And for what? Your fucking ego?”
“For the record,” Chloe steps forward now, her arms still crossed, “I regret sending Odette to Vermont. I didn’t know you would be there. Had I known you planned on going there anyway, I would’ve told her to stay the hell away. If not for that stupid snowstorm, I would’ve marched over there myself and pried her away there, from you. Because as much as it pains me to say this, you’re the second best thing that’s ever happened to her. But you’re also the worst thing to ever happen to her, and I hate that you came into her life this way. I’ll be damned if I have to sit back and watch you fuck her over like you did Mom.”
Caleb sighs deeply. “What Chloe is trying to say is, it’s not our place to tell Odette who she can and cannot be with, even if that person is you. As much as we don’t want you in our lives, we’re willing to put up with you—” His words falter, but he pushes on, “for Odette’s sake. She’s a mother, but she’s also a woman. And she wants you. Even after all of this, she still wants you, and I hate that she’s struggling with that. I hate that she even has to choose. What happened between you in Aspen is your business, and as much as I’d like the past to stay in the fucking past, I also want her to be happy. We want her to be happy. But that doesn’t mean you get to bulldoze your way into our lives, into Aurora’s life.
“So let’s be clear about one thing: Aurora is off-limits. Our baby sister is not your chance at redemption. Hurt her, and you’ll have no one. You won’t even have us. You sure as hell won’t have Odette. That’s not a threat. It’s a promise.”
The finality in his words stings, but he’s right. They both are. I don’t know what I expected, but it wasn’t this. I thought they’d be angry with me, and they are, but it’s more than that. They’re protecting Odette. They’re protecting Aurora. They’re protecting their family.
Caleb stands up slowly, looking me in the eye for a moment before reaching out and taking his sister’s hand. “We’re done here. I hope you figure out what’s important to you, because we have.”
Hand in hand, they head for the door. Before walking out, Chloe and Caleb share one last look before Caleb turns to face me once more.
“If you’re serious about making amends,” he says quietly, his voice calm but tinged with sorrow, “start with Azriel. He’s not just Aurora’s dad, he’s the father we never had. Coming here was his idea, for Odette’s sake. Because for some fucked up reason, he believes we should be the ones to extend an olive branch first.”
“I hope we never, ever have to do this again.” Chloe throws in the last word, but there’s a hint of sadness in her eyes.
Caleb pulls Chloe closer, their hands clasped tightly together, and they walk out without another word. The door clicks shut behind them, leaving me standing in the empty living room, their parting words echoing in my mind.
There’s still hope for me, for us. I need to fix this.
But first, I need to fix myself.
And I know just where to start.