Lila sat at the kitchen table, the envelope trembling in her hands. The letter was addressed to her, the handwriting elegant and deliberate. Her name, Lila Monroe, was written as if the writer had known her all her life.
Damon and Jacob stood nearby, their eyes fixed on her. Aiden lingered by the doorway, his face unreadable.
"Are you going to open it?" Damon asked, his voice calm but filled with concern.
Lila nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat. Slowly, she broke the seal and unfolded the letter. The paper was thick and expensive, the kind that spoke of old money and power.
Dearest Lila,
You don't know me, but I've known of you for a long time.
Your mother and I shared a past, one that ended far too soon. When I learned of your existence, I wanted to be part of your life, but circumstances kept me away. I wasn't the man she deserved and I feared I wouldn't be the father you needed.
But now, it's time for the truth.
If you're reading this, it means Vivian has told you something I couldn't. You may hate me for my absence, but I hope you'll allow me the chance to explain myself. I am your father, Lila. And if you're willing, I would like to meet you.
There's so much I need to say, so much I need to make right.
I've enclosed my contact information. The choice is yours.
With hope,
Charles Blackwell
Lila's hands shook as she lowered the letter. The weight of his words pressed down on her, threatening to overwhelm her.
"Do you believe him?" Damon asked, his voice soft.
"I don't know," Lila said, her voice barely above a whisper. "But if he's telling the truth, I need answers. I deserve answers.
Jacob's expression was a mix of sadness and resignation. "You should meet him," he said. "If only to put the questions to rest."
"Are you sure?" Lila asked, her eyes searching his.
He nodded. "I've always loved you, Lila. That won't change, no matter what you find."
Later that day, Lila made the call. Her hands trembled as she dialed the number and when a deep, resonant voice answered, her breath hitched.
"This is Charles Blackwell," the voice said.
"This is Lila," she replied, her voice unsteady.
There was a pause, followed by a sharp intake of breath. "Lila," he said, his tone softening. "Thank you for calling. I wasn't sure if you would."
"I'm not sure why I did," she admitted.
"Because you have questions," Charles said. "And I owe you answers. Will you meet me? I can come to you or you can come to my home in the city. Whatever you're comfortable with."
Lila hesitated, then glanced at Damon, who nodded encouragingly. "I'll come to you," she said finally.
"Good," Charles said. "I'll send a car to pick you up. Tomorrow?"
"Tomorrow," she agreed.
The next day, Lila found herself standing in front of a sprawling mansion on the edge of the city. The air was thick with tension as the driver opened the car door for her.
Inside, the grandeur was overwhelming; marble floors, crystal chandeliers and an air of old money that made her feel out of place.
Charles was waiting in the sitting room, a tall man with silver-streaked hair and piercing gray eyes. He rose as she entered, his expression a mixture of apprehension and relief.
"Lila," he said, stepping forward.
She hesitated, then nodded. "Charles."
"Please, sit," he said, gesturing to a plush armchair.
As she sat, he began to speak, his voice steady but tinged with regret. "Your mother was the love of my life, but I was too blind to see it until it was too late. When she left, I thought I'd lost everything. Then I found out about you."
"Why didn't you come for me?" Lila asked, her voice sharp.
"I tried," Charles said, his expression pained. "But your mother made it clear she didn't want me in your life. She wanted to protect you from my world, from the kind of man I was back then."
"What kind of man were you?"
Charles hesitated, then met her gaze. "A ruthless one. I built an empire, Lila, but it came at a cost. I wasn't the kind of father you deserved. But I've changed. And I want to make things right."