Chapter 68
Davian
Bad Father
It’s Over
Atli ?rvarsson
Doing what was right for the world and for everyone else was easy. Until you met someone for whom you had to break the law. Wanted to.
I didn’t give a damn about the world as long as Quill was suffering.
As wrong as that fact was, Quill was my world. The center of my solar system, around which I wanted to orbit forever, addicted to her ever-fading light.
Ever since I’d known her, I’d tried desperately to protect her flame from the storms of this existence. Yet my own flame burned far fainter than hers, existing only because she existed.
Just before my candle could have gone out, she had lent me her flame. And her fire burned so strongly within me that, to this day, I feared I would burn myself if I allowed these flames to reach their full potential.
Quill was stronger than she thought. Yet since last Saturday’s disaster, she’d only left the room for breakfast and university, had stopped going to work, and yesterday she hadn’t even shown up on campus.
I’d had to lie to Monica and tell her that Quill had the flu. That was the second reason she was upstairs right now, probably already wrapped up in her blanket again.
The first one was sitting diagonally across from me at the dining room table, staring at his plate as if Troy’s death had affected him too.
Tony still didn’t know she lived here, and it was better that way. If Quill wanted to tell him, she should. I wouldn’t stop her, even if Tony might take it the wrong way.
My thoughts drifted back to Quill.
I should bring her food upstairs, as I’d done the last few days, as soon as Lara had gone to bed, should leave her fresh towels for her to shower, be there for her… But I couldn’t. Not while Lara was here.
The worst part of it all? Quill wasn’t writing anymore. And I never would have thought that would plunge me into such despair.
Was that what she felt whenever she showed up outside my study and wanted to write with me? Fear that something was wrong with me because I wasn’t writing?
For me, it had become the norm, but now, looking back, it had broken me over all those years to not be doing what helped me express my feelings, process things, perceive this world so much more intensely, to be myself.
I should be glad that this week even the Atrianima issue on campus had been completely overshadowed by the murder investigation, but I couldn’t.
Quill was breaking down. Because of that godless bastard who had never deserved her pity.
The mere thought of every tear she had shed for Troy Fitzek shattered something inside me, coiling my rage against a man I could no longer grab by the collar and beat to the ground without mercy, as he deserved.
He had wanted to kill her.
I clenched a fist around the knife in my hand, cutting the schnitzel as small as possible, while cursing myself inwardly for not having followed her, for not having found Troy.
Who could have guessed…
I clenched my teeth until my jaw began to ache.
Joseph. Everything that had happened to Quill, he could have prevented. Which made it all the more surprising to find out that he had stopped Arnold from shooting Troy.
Who was this godless bastard who had been like a father to me all those years, for God’s sake?!
By now, I was keeping a tally that grew longer with each passing day.
Every mark symbolized a moment when I should have punched him in the face, but instead had scraped together every last shred of my sanity to avoid causing a scene and thereby drawing attention to myself and Quill during an ongoing investigation.
Quill had opened my eyes.
This man had been taking advantage of me all these years, even though I still didn’t quite know why me of all people.
“Davian?”
First Day in Court
Atli ?rvarson
I blinked until my vision cleared and I came back to the present moment. Only then did I realize that I had been separating the piece of asparagus on my plate into strands, fiber by fiber, with my knife and fork the whole time, without eating a single bite.
I looked up.
“Hm?”
Monica across from me looked at me with concern and pointed to the serving platter with the white buttered asparagus next to me.
Lara also eyed me searchingly, and it was a miracle she hadn’t found out yet how much Quill was on my mind.
She knew about Troy and the incident. After all, she had found the diary together with Quill. In the damn Fitzek attic.
God, Quill, why on earth did you have to go up there?
The only one who was still staring absent-mindedly at his plate, as if he’d lost his appetite, was Tony. He hadn’t even touched his whiskey.
This December dinner, which took place at my place every year at the same time, couldn’t have come at a worse time.
“The asparagus…,” Monica said cautiously.
“Of course,” I replied quickly, handing her the plate.
“By the way…,” Lara cleared her throat. “Next week I have a week-long field trip to D.C. It’s a big journalism project where I’ll be producing a news broadcast with my group on a chosen topic.”
Monica’s eyes lit up. “Oh, wow, Miss Future Reporter. Then I’m curious to see what you’ll come up with.”
Lara smiled, and the two of them got lost in a conversation about D.C.
At least my daughter had reasons to be happy.
Amid all the chaos, I had only had one opportunity to talk to her at length. Last Sunday, when she had given me Troy’s diary.
She had been trembling, though not as violently as Quill, but after I’d read that damn thing, I’d done my best to explain German history to her, as well as our next legal steps, and why it was sometimes better to remain silent in this system.
I had taken her in my arms, had hoped she would share her feelings with me, but she had said hardly anything, and it didn’t leave me cold that she was probably trying to process things on her own. Things she would never forget. Images in her head. Thanks to that goddamn diary.
Arnold had watched her grow up, just like Joseph had. And both of those facts disgusted me more and more.
Abruptly, Tony dropped his silverware with a clatter, and Monica and Lara stopped talking.
His empty gaze was fixed on the center of the table.
“I’m sorry, guys, but I can’t get over the fact that we’re eating and talking as if he hadn’t been murdered a week ago.”
Monica nearly choked on her piece of asparagus.
“Tony…,” Lara began, but I cut her off, growing increasingly frustrated that I had to keep my best friend in the dark.
“It’s okay, Lara.” I turned my gaze to Tony. “Even though I don’t understand how you can mourn him like this.” Tony looked up, as if he needed a moment to process my words. “You had just as many problems with him as I did.”
Those diary entries had made me feel sorry for Troy for a moment. Even back then, Joseph seemed to have turned his own son against him. Not actively, but with serious consequences.
“But a bullet through the throat?”
Tony raised his eyebrows, and I didn’t even want to imagine how my Blue still had to process that shot.
I bit my tongue.
My Blue.
“I wouldn’t wish that on my worst enemy,” he said, leaning back and taking a worryingly large sip from his whiskey glass. “I don’t even want to know how Arnold is doing.”
This time I couldn’t hold back the disgruntled snort.
“Arnold must be delighted.”
Everyone was now looking at me.
I cleared my throat.
“He never liked his son, disinherited him, didn’t even want to leave him Maplecrest.”
Normally, I wouldn’t have added fuel to the fire. This had to be the Quill influence. She would be proud of me now.
“Besides. If he’d won the debates with Lucas, people would have questioned why Arnold rejected him.”
Because of his goddamn ancestry.
“Arnold was in the hall with us,” Monica defended him, as if she’d forgotten how many battles she’d already fought against this man.
“Anyway…” Lara quickly interjected. “Do you know who else was in the hall? Mom.”
Mom and Dad
Atli ?rvarsson
Tony nearly choked on his whiskey.
I set down my silverware and looked flabbergasted at my daughter, who was giving me a longing look.
What the hell?
“Lara.” I tried to stay calm, because I’d never even once raised my voice at my daughter, but the mere thought of Lily was enough to stir up rage inside me. “She’s not your mom.”
She’d never called her that before.
“She sure is.”
I raised both eyebrows as several gears in my head began to turn.
“Your father’s right,” Monica said, even more agitated than I was. “She never showed up.”
“She did show up. And she was at the ball because of me. Because I invited her.”
It felt as if my soul were leaving my body as I stared at Lara.
“You did what?!” Monica blurted out, while Lara glared at me as if I’d hurt her and this were part of some revenge plot.
“Lara, maybe…”
“No, Tony.”
He looked at Lara as if she were about to make the biggest mistake of her life.
“It’s time to let them know.”
She turned back to me, looking back and forth between me and Monica, while I desperately tried to piece her words together in my head into a coherent puzzle.
And then she told us everything. Things I never expected to hear coming from my daughter’s mouth. Things that felt like betrayal. Betrayal that was my fault. As if I had failed. As a father.
“She wants to meet with us. Today. And I promise you that once we’ve all talked and given each other a chance, you’ll understand why she means so much to me.”
I swallowed, staring at my daughter, because I was incapable of doing anything else.
That was my little girl. I had promised myself to protect her from everything, to give her a life where she lacked nothing, and I had moved back here to keep a closer eye on her.
And yet I’d somehow failed to notice that Lily had contacted her behind my back, met up with her, and now had obviously buttered her up?
“You invited her?” Monica blurted out. “To this dinner?”
She sounded as if she were about to lose her composure. Something that rarely happened.
Only now did the meaning of her words sink in.
“Lara…,” I managed to say. “Please tell me this is all a big joke.”
My voice sounded empty.