22. Tori
TORI
“Mitchell Lindsey’s office,” a brisk female voice said.
I took a deep breath, my mouth suddenly bone dry despite the fact that I’d practiced for this conversation over and over again in my head.
“This is Victoria Lindsey,” I said. “The senator’s daughter. May I speak with my father, please?”
“He’s en route to the airport in DC at the moment,” she said politely, giving no indication of whether I’d been blacklisted from his contacts or not.
So he was still out of town. “Flying into Springfield?” I asked. The flight usually took about three hours, so I figured I could try him again after my first class let out today.
“Chicago, actually,” she said. “He’ll be at the office there for a few days before he heads home.”
“Got it,” I said, my mood lifting instantly. His schedule couldn’t have been more convenient for me and Anja. “I’ll call him back this afternoon then. Thanks for your help.”
“Actually, I can try to patch you through to his cell if you like?” she suggested.
Guess I hadn’t made the blacklist after all. “That’d be great,” I told her.
The line started to ring and I tapped my fingers on the kitchen counter in time with the quickening of my pulse, wondering if he’d even pick up or purposely leave me hanging so I’d be forced to choke out an awkward voicemail.
I couldn’t help feeling anxious. We’d been estranged for nearly two months, and hadn’t spoken a word to each other since the day I’d found out he was involved in KZM’s trafficking coverup.
This was the first time I’d be hearing his voice since then.
And since the recent revelations of his infidelity.
His lying. The way he’d treated his bed partners.
I took another long drink of coffee to fortify myself, just about to hang up, when—
“Tori? What is it?” he asked in his usual gruff way. “I’m about to get on a plane.”
At first I froze, unable to form the words. My anger about Max and Anja made it hard not to start flinging accusations or demanding he take action to correct his past wrongs.
“Tori?” my dad barked. “First class is boarding.”
“I…need to talk to you,” I finally managed, my voice sounding extremely formal.
“Obviously. Well, make it fast,” he demanded. “I assume you’ve finally come to your senses.”
I narrowed my eyes. It was obvious he thought this was an apology call.
How dare he speak to me this way, after all he’d done.
But of course, he didn’t know what I knew.
He thought I was still the same na?ve, sweet, innocent daughter he’d always known.
Calling to beg his forgiveness for my behavior on the day I’d told him he wasn’t my father anymore.
He’d be wrong to think that. But it didn’t mean I couldn’t play into those assumptions.
“Actually, I was hoping to speak with you in person,” I said in a gentle tone. “Your assistant said you’re on the way to Chicago, so maybe I can see you while you’re in town.”
I felt bad about what this confrontation would do to my stepmother, but I hoped that she would understand and forgive me. Arranging this meeting was something I owed to Anja and to Max, but I was doing it for Michelle as well. She deserved to know who my father truly was.
“What’s this all about?” he asked impatiently. “I have back-to-back meetings both days, and my fucking doctor’s still telling me I need to be ‘resting.’ As if the country’s problems can wait just because I feel a little under the weather.”
Even though I was furious at him, even though I knew he was a liar, I still felt a twinge of pity. My father was not good at facing anything that reminded him of his own mortality.
“What about after work hours?” I asked. “Surely you can spare an evening for your only child? It’s important.”
I was laying it on thick—and with the knowledge that by the end of our meeting, he would know that I wasn’t his only child anymore—Anja needed resolution, and the longer we postponed this confrontation, the more likely it would be that the news about Max would get to my father some other way.
Or that Anja would back out, maybe flee and go into hiding again. I couldn’t risk that.
Through the phone I could hear the boarding announcement repeating something about priority seating and families with children.
“Please, Daddy?” I said, hating that I had to resort to little-girl speak but knowing he’d be powerless against it.
He huffed. “Fine. Why don’t you come over to the condo after dinner tonight? I can spare maybe an hour. I gotta go.”
“Thank you!” I crowed, feeling triumphant. “Fly safe. I’ll see you later.”
We hung up.
I had conveniently left out the part about bringing other people with me.
After I got home from school that night, Stefan and I called our private car and picked up Anja, who was leaving Max with the same babysitter Gretna had recommended the night of our family dinner.
Max had basked in the older woman’s grandmotherly doting on him, and didn’t even put up a fight at being left home with her and his pile of new toys, courtesy of me.
Then, somber and tense, we drove over to my father’s condo, prepared to confront him with the consequences of his actions from all those years ago.
Anja was twisting the hem of her sweater into knots, so I gently took one of her hands and squeezed it. She was shaking a little, and I didn’t blame her. I was so nervous that I could actually feel the thumping of my heart in my chest.
At least Stefan seemed calm and collected. Just being near him, my leg pressed against his, made me relax. A little.
The car pulled up in front of the building, and for a moment none of us moved.
“Are you ready?” Stefan finally asked.
He had directed the question at Anja. Her face was pale, but she nodded, her gaze steely.
“I’m ready,” she said. “Let’s do this.”
The three of us got into the elevator and with each floor, I could feel my anxiety build. Stefan and Anja were silent and fidgety, respectively, so I guessed they were feeling the same. Seconds after ringing the doorbell to my dad’s place, I heard footsteps. I held my breath.
The door swung open, revealing my father’s tired face. Before he could register that I wasn’t alone, Stefan elbowed his way past, pulling me and Anja into the condo along with him.
“Evening, Senator,” Stefan said.
My father’s mouth drew into a firm line, but still he closed the door behind us.
“What the hell is this?” he demanded, following us into the sitting room.
He was very purposefully not looking at Anja. I had seen the flare of shocked recognition in his eyes when we’d pushed our way in, the way he’d looked immediately stricken at her presence.
Not just recognition—panic, too. Even though I’d never doubted Anja, my dad’s reaction to seeing her in the flesh basically confirmed everything she’d told us about their relationship. But if he thought we were here about his infidelity alone, he had quite another thing coming.
“You remember Anja Borjan,” Stefan said, gesturing in her direction.
Anja was standing tall but her face had gone pale, her eyes locked unwaveringly on my father. I went over and put her arm around her, causing my dad’s eyes to bulge out of his head.
“I’ve never seen this woman before,” he said, darting his gaze at her. “You’re mistaken.”
It was a terrible lie.
“You can drop the games,” I deadpanned. “We all know what Konstantin’s business is all about, and we also know why you have a vested interest in the…not-so-legal endeavors.”
“If you think you’re going to blackmail me, you can all get the fuck out right now,” my dad said, starting to turn red. “My lawyer will ensure this slander never sees the light of day—”
“Just stop!” I interrupted. “This isn’t even about that. It’ll be easier for everyone if you just admit you know her, so we can move on to the real reason we’re here. Now please, sit.”
He did. Noticing a half-finished drink on the table beside the sofa, I handed it to him. He downed the rest of the alcohol in a single gulp. Finally his shoulders slumped and he looked up at me, seeming older and smaller than I’d ever seen him before.
“I’m not corroborating anything you just said,” he stated. “But yes, I do know her.”
“Anja,” I prodded.
“I know Anja,” he repeated, annoyed. I could see the woman’s posture relax a little at hearing my father finally say her name out loud.
“Thank you,” she murmured.
In my opinion, she had nothing to thank him for. Acknowledging her shouldn’t have required this much pulling of teeth. My father really was a bastard.
“Now just get on with it and tell me why this woman is standing in my living room.” He glared at Stefan and I before directing his full attention on Anja. “If you’re looking for some sort of pay-off, like I said, you can leave right now. I’m not paying you a cent.
“In fact, go ahead and tell the media I was with you, for all I care. Who do you think the public will believe? A longtime, respected senator with a great track record, or some foreign hooker that just popped out of the woodwork?”
Stefan’s fists clenched, and I could feel the outrage radiating off of him, but I pulled my husband back as Anja stepped toward my dad, her head still held high.
“It won’t just be my word against yours, Senator,” she said. “I have proof. Our seven-year-old son.”
My father went completely stiff.
“You’re a liar and a whore,” he rasped, newly invigorated. “There have to be dozens of men out there who could have fathered your child! You’re trying to pin it on me so you can get notoriety and child support, but it won’t work. You think I haven’t dealt with your type before?”
“Maybe I am wrong,” she said calmly.
“You see?” my dad shouted triumphantly, gesturing in frustration to me and Stefan.
Anja went on, “And that’s why we need you to agree to a paternity test.”
My father scoffed. “There’s no way in hell I’d agree to something like that.”
I stepped forward. “You don’t have to,” I said. “If you don’t give them a sample of your DNA, I’ll give them mine. It might not be as significant a lab result, but it will prove that I’m related to Anja’s son. And it will be enough to take to the press.”
My father scowled at me in disgust.
“I can’t believe you’re buying into this woman’s lies—and over the word of your own father,” he raged.
I didn’t say anything, just looped my arm through Anja’s in a show of support. My father’s gaze shifted accusingly to Stefan.
“And you. You’re supposed to be keeping her in line! What kind of husband can’t keep his wife from running around and colluding in these kinds of bullshit conspiracy theories?”
“The kind of husband who trusts his wife’s rationale,” Stefan answered drily.
“It’s not bullshit,” I insisted. I’d had enough.
Pulling out my phone, I scrolled back to a picture I’d taken of Max the other day.
The one where he looked almost exactly like a dark haired, more boyish version of me at that age.
Same upturned nose with its spray of freckles, same exact brows and eye shape.
There was no denying he also looked a hell of a lot like my dad’s old elementary school photos.
“Look at him,” I said, thrusting my phone in his face. “Look! His eyes are blue-green like Anja’s, but they’re shaped just like yours and mine. And that chin? That’s definitely yours. His hair even curls up like yours when it starts to grow out. How can you pretend he’s not yours?”
My dad pushed my hand away, stood from the couch, and went to the bar at the other end of the room, where he poured himself a fresh drink.
I knew his doctor had said my dad wasn’t supposed to be drinking excessively, but I kept my mouth shut.
The only thing I wanted in this moment was to get him to admit that he had fathered an illegitimate child.
After draining half the glass, he turned his attention back to me.
“Jesus, Tori. I can’t believe you’re doing this to me,” he ranted. “I’m in the middle of an election, for Christ’s sake! How could you possibly think it was a good time to approach me about something like this?”
He was visibly sweating, a light sheen on his forehead, and he looked exhausted. Not for the first time, I thought to myself how much he seemed to have aged over the last few months.
“This isn’t about your career,” I said. “I just want you to do the right thing.”
“You’re going to ruin my life!” he shouted at me. Then he pointed at Anja. “This is all your fault, you conniving whore.”
Stefan stepped between my dad and Anja and me, shielding us from his unchecked rage.
“I suggest you calm down, Senator,” Stefan said, his voice steely calm.
“Don’t tell me to calm down!” my father spouted. “I’m going to have all your asses thrown in jail! I’m invincible! I have friends in the Department of Justice!”
So did we. But my father didn’t know anything about that yet.
I’d never seen my dad so angry before. He was leaning back against the bar, his heavy breaths becoming ragged. It looked like he was struggling for air. Was it a panic attack?
“Dad?” I cried out, starting to move toward him.
Suddenly he fell to the ground, his hands clutching his chest.