Kazia
The drive to my father's house doesn't take long, and as soon as we arrive, I rush inside. I'm greeted by my stepmother and her children having dinner. She doesn't seem surprised to see me; of course, my stepmother-in-law would have told her about my newfound freedom.
"Where's my father?" I ask, noticing he isn't at the dining table.
"Since you're here, you and your husband should join us for dinner," she says, gesturing for the servants to serve us. But before they can, I refuse the offer—all I want is to see my father.
"Thank you, Mother, but I'd like to see my father, Mr. Gratis," I reply, growing slightly impatient at how unconcerned she seems.
When she doesn't respond, I make my way to my father's room with Aidan quietly following. I knock on the door a few times, but there's no response, so I let myself in.
I almost collapse at the sight of my father's nearly lifeless body on the bed, surrounded by wires and tubes.
"Ahhh!" I scream at the top of my lungs. I knew he would never willingly abandon me. I've had a strong feeling something might have happened to him—I just wish I'd been wrong.
"Father," I call, moving closer, but there's no response.
I tap lightly on his bare shoulder, and his eyes flutter open. Tears of relief spill from my eyes as his hollow gaze meets mine.
"Father," I call again, my voice shaky and thick with emotion.
"Who are you?" he asks weakly, his voice barely audible.
Who am I?
"Father, it's me, your daughter, Kazia."
"Daughter? Kazia…" he murmurs before closing his eyes again.
"Father? Father? Mr. Gratis, Anthony." I call his name, but he doesn't answer. Though I see he's still breathing, his shallow breaths tear at my heart. I'm relieved he's alive, yet devastated that he doesn't recognize me. Without realizing it, I lean into Aidan's embrace, sobbing and pouring out my grief.
My father doesn't recognize me. What's happened to him while I've been gone? I'd only been away a few weeks—how could things have gotten this bad? Would I have been able to prevent this if I hadn't agreed to the marriage? I feel so lost and unsure of what to do.
I pull myself away from Aidan and return to the dining room, where they're all enjoying their meal while my father lies in bed, barely alive.
As I reach the dining table, I yank the tablecloth, sending food flying everywhere.
"What is the meaning of this?" my stepmother demands.
"How dare you eat happily while my father is dying? What did you do to him, you wicked woman?" I rage. When no one answers, I flip the table over, startling everyone.
"I will not tolerate this insolence!" she shouts, striding toward me in anger. She raises her hand to slap me, but before she can, a strong hand grabs her wrist and flings it aside, pushing her to the floor.
"Mother!" Tyson rushes to her side, glaring at me, but I ignore him. What a shame. He had been such a kind person when we were younger, but now his heart is poisoned by his mother and sister.
What could my father have done to make them wish him dead? He's shown them nothing but love, even to my stepsister, who isn't his biological child. He's never loved her any less than me or Tyson.
Now, I understand why she sent me off to the Armani and kept me locked away. If my father-in-law hadn't granted me freedom, would my father have died while I remained locked up?
The security team bursts into the room, pointing their guns at me and Aidan.
"Took you long enough to get here! You're getting fired, you hear me? Fired!" Lydia, who has been silent until now, suddenly speaks up.
Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine that the people I'd grown up with and played with would be the ones pointing guns at me. Will this be my end? Am I going to die like this? No, please—I don't want to die right now. Maybe someday, but not like this.
"Do the needful," my stepmother says to the head of security. I really hope she doesn't mean shooting us.
The head of security walks over to her and whispers something in her ear. She immediately composes herself, rising from the floor.
"Just get them out of here. I need to tend to my husband."
…
I don't know how long I've been crying or when I'll stop, but I can't seem to hold back the tears. I thought I was ready for this battle, that I had a chance of winning. But I was wrong. What's going to happen to my father? How am I supposed to help him when I don't even know what's wrong with him?vWhat could have happened in just the few weeks I was away?
The sudden feel of Aidan's hand on my shoulder gives me a sense of comfort I hadn't expected from a near-stranger. I lean into him, resting my head on his shoulder. It's a bit uncomfortable, but I don't mind.
As I lean into him, our moving car jolts, and I nearly snap my neck. In pain, I lift my head from his shoulder to massage the sore spot, but before I know it, I find myself in his lap. Shocked by his sudden action, my cheeks flush in embarrassment. He gently places my head on his chest and pats my back softly.
In his embrace, I feel safe, as though my burdens are lighter. I place a hand on his chest, tracing the shape of his muscles. My hand drifts to the nape of his neck, and I feel him tense.
I look up, finding him already gazing down at me, and blush again. I can't believe what I'm doing.
I can't tear my gaze away from his deep, dark eyes. Instinctively, I reach up, brushing aside a few strands of hair that covers part of his face.
Realizing what I'm doing, I stop. I really shouldn't be doing this, yet I can't help myself. My eyes drift to his slightly parted lips, then back to his eyes to gauge his reaction—but he remains unreadable. We hold eye contact for a brief second before I find myself looking at those lips again. He opens them slightly, as if inviting me in.
I have no idea how long I've been staring at his lips. Lost in their beauty, I'm contemplating my next move when my phone rings, snapping me out of the moment. I quickly pick it up and slide off his lap, retreating to the far edge of the car.
"Jules?" I say, relieved for the interruption.
"I heard what happened—are you okay?" Aidan must have told her or her husband about the situation at my father's house. It hasn't even been two hours, and she already knows.
"You should come stay with us. I don't want you going home to that negativity." Her concern touches me, and I feel tears welling up again.
I tell her I'm fine, but she insists. After much persuasion, I finally agree. Perhaps she's right. Maybe that's exactly what I need right now.