22. April

22

APRIL

"Are you still working at that quaint little shop?"

"Did you get a C-section?"

"Ohh! Can I see the scar?"

"Where's the father?"

The barrage of questions makes the teacups tremble on their plates. It's like that scene in Jurassic Park , but worse, because at least for the people in the movie, there's just one sharp-toothed reptile they have to deal with.

Me? I've got two on either side.

"Yes, I'm still working with Mr. Turner ," I answer Nora with a tight smile before turning to the twins. "No, I didn't get a C-section, so there are no scars to be seen."

"Bummer," Kate says.

"I wish I could've been there," Diana sighs.

"And the father?" Anne presses with her usual smirk. "Who is he? Why isn't he here?"

My smile grows tighter. "He's a businessman. He's busy."

It's a half-truth, but it's all I can offer. I can't very well say, I tried to tell him and he kept finding better uses for my mouth , can I?

"A businessman," Nora echoes with interest. "What kind of business?"

The kind that feeds cemeteries. "He owns a hotel chain. Actually, he's the CEO as well."

"The CEO," Diana coos.

"Sounds expensive," Kate giggles.

"It's just like a fairytale," Anne sighs dreamily. "Isn't that right, Mother?"

"Yes, it is quite… hard to believe."

I have to play that line back in my head three times. Because either I'm going deaf, or Nora just went there. "As in, I made it up?"

"Dear, dear!" Nora laughs nervously. "No need to be so defensive, April. We were just… wondering, that's all."

"Speak for yourself." Anne flips her hair back. "I was calling it romantic."

That burst of attitude seems to catch Nora off-guard. "I see."

It's so good to watch, I almost feel a burst of affection for my estranged hellbeast of a sister. "Thank you, Anne."

"So where's the ring?"

I freeze. "Where's the… what?"

"Your wedding ring," Anne drawls. "Or at least an engagement one? Where is it? I'd think a CEO has money for that."

"The ring? I…" Suddenly, the words won't come. I'm fumbling for no good reason, four pairs of hungry eyes on mine. Well, five, but Dominic's stare is fixed on his teacup, as if I'm not even there. "I…"

"It's okay," Anne says, all conspiratorial. She draws close on the sofa and takes hold of my hand. "You're just not that kind of couple, right?"

There's something in the way she says it that makes my heart sink. "What kind of couple would that be?" I ask, cold sweat running down my back. Because suddenly, all I can think about is those kinds of couples : the kind that wasn't careful or the kind that doesn't care; the kind that has no money or the kind where it changes hands every night, always in the same direction.

And then the one that terrifies me most of all: the kind that doesn't love each other .

Anne seems taken aback by my question, but after a beat, she shrugs it off. "Just, like, not traditional. That's all I meant."

"Right," I echo. "We definitely aren't that."

"Does he have a name?" Kate asks. "Your boo?"

"Yeah, does he?" Diane echoes.

"He does." I smile politely. "Excuse me."

I put my cup down without having taken a single sip and rise from the plush sofa. "Where are you going?" Nora asks, scandalized.

"To feed my daughter," I reply. "Unless you'd rather I do it here?"

My threat seems to have the desired effect. "No need," she mutters, scrunching up her face like a disgusted bunny. One would think she'd be used to it, having done it three times, but who knows—maybe she had nannies for that, too. "Use the side room."

I don't go into the side room. Instead, I veer all the way to the left, looking for the one place that will ease this sense of suffocation in my chest: the balcony.

Looking out onto the view I'm so familiar with, I feel like I can finally breathe. Still, even this little haven doesn't hold a single pleasant memory.

Hello, darkness, my old friend.

I lean against the railing, May safely snuggled in my arms. "Can you believe this, Nugget?" I murmur. "First, your father doesn't exist; then, he's some lowlife. Just pick one already."

My baby coos in vague agreement. She isn't a fan of perceiving the world in normal circumstances, so I can only imagine what this is doing to her. Probably putting her off social gatherings forever. I can hardly blame her.

"Sorry." I press my lips against her wonderful little forehead. "I had to try. I thought…"

Thought what? a part of me mocks. That they'd welcome you back with open arms? That they'd finally treat you as one of their own? That they'd treat your kid as one of their own?

That they'd changed ?

Yes. As ridiculous as that sounds… yes, I did think that. Just for a second, but I did. I hoped that maybe, now that the girls were grown, they'd have developed some personality traits other than mockery and spite. That maybe they'd finally be able to see me for who I am, not for the person their witch of a mother taught them I was.

An outsider. A failure. A plaything.

And if not them, then at least…

As if on cue, a familiar voice drifts out onto the balcony. "April? Are you still… feeding ?"

The sheer level of discomfort in that word is enough to make me laugh, though it doesn't last long. "I'm decent, if that's what you're asking."

With an uneasy nod, Dominic steps out to join me.

For a beat, there's silence. He glances from one corner of the balcony to the next, as if looking for something to say and then realizing he has to find that elsewhere. Maybe somewhere closer to the heart than the charcoal grill. "Chilly out here, isn't it?"

"It's okay, Dad. You don't have to force yourself."

"Mm."

It wasn't like this all the time. Between us, I mean. When I was little, I remember him taking care of me: I remember car rides, packed lunches, checking homework. I even remember games—nothing outrageously funny, but it was funny to me. It was fun .

Because he was my dad.

But then there were the fights with Mom. The screamed insults that stopped at nothing, not even a daughter's desperate cries. I remember his anger as he threw every single one of Eleanor's faults back into her face: the short temper, the drinking, the mistake daughter.

If you couldn't raise a kid, you should never have had one.

Then Nora came along, and I didn't even get the screams anymore. Only silence.

Sometimes, that hurt worse.

I remember standing in the hallway one night when I wasn't feeling well. I wanted to ask my dad if I could sleep in his bed. He used to let me do that when I was smaller. I knew he had a new baby, but maybe…

And then I heard Nora through the door. Her soft, honey-sweet voice, pouring poison as if it were wine.

You have a new family now. You need to forget your old one.

I waited for my dad to say something. To tell her that it didn't matter if he had a second family—his first daughter could still be a part of it. That families don't get swapped out for better ones: they grow . Together.

But he didn't say a thing.

I never came to his door again.

"Why did you call me here?" I finally ask. "Was it just to relive the good old times? Because let me tell you, they weren't so good for me."

Dominic hesitates. It's not unusual to see him uncomfortable, but this is… odd. A clash with that aristocratic "man of the house" image he's spent so long cultivating.

Maybe that's why he doesn't like having me around: I bring him back. His true self, the person he was before. The one who thought you could change a person by putting a ring on their finger, even if that person was a pregnant, alcoholic disaster. "There's something I want to discuss with you."

Now, that perks my ears. "What—did I come into another inheritance you want to steal? Or did you suddenly grow a conscience?"

He sets his face into his trademark stern look of disapproval, but doesn't say anything.

"Wait, you're not dying, are you?" I ask, ready to feel horrible.

But luckily, he shakes his head. "Nothing of the sort. I want to offer you something."

Then he pulls something out of his pocket. It takes me a second to realize what it is, but once I do… "Your checkbook?"

"Mm."

"Wow," I deadpan. "Maybe you really have grown a conscience."

The truth is, I simply can't believe what I'm seeing. If I'm reading the situation correctly—and I don't think there are many other ways to read it—my father is about to offer me money. My estranged, distant, loaded father.

And I won't lie: I could use it. After all, I can't rely on the goodness of Matvey's heart forever. Elias pays me well, but this is New York City: even breathing in the wrong neighborhood can set you back an arm and a leg.

With some money of my own, I could look after myself. I could look after May. I could…

Finally achieve your dreams , says a hopeful little voice at the back of my mind.

And even I can't—even if it's just a gesture…

Maybe he still cares about me.

I watch my dad scribble down a sum. Then he hands me the check. I read it and nearly faint: one hundred thousand dollars.

I count the zeroes just in case I read wrong. Then I reread it again. Finally, once I'm certain I'm not hallucinating or miscounting, I ask, half-joking and half-terrified, "What's the catch?"

Say nothing , I beg as my question hangs in the air. Say nothing and let me have this. Better yet, say you're sorry. Say it's a present for your granddaughter. Say you want to be a part of her life; that you want to be a part of my life again.

Say you're still my father.

But that's not what he says.

That's not even close.

"You know you're not fit for this, April. Being a mother."

I feel the air being sucked out of me. Like I've been punched in the gut with a knuckle duster. "I'm not fit for being a mother?" I tremble, full of outrage. " I'm not fit?"

Even though I've just heard it with my own two ears, part of me still hopes I'm mistaken. That I made it all up in my head, everything in the past five minutes, money included.

But I haven't. This is the cold, hard truth of Dominic Flowers: everything he gives, he gives with strings attached.

"You know I'm right. You're too much like…" He grimaces. "Like her. "

"Say her name," I snap. "Eleanor. Your ex-wife. Say it, Dominic. Stop pretending we weren't real."

May starts stirring in my arms, upset all over again. But there's nothing I can do, because I'm upset. And my kid's heart is already bigger than my father's.

"See?" He points at her as if he was waiting for exactly that. An excuse to confirm his theory. "You're just proving my point. You're too immature."

"So this is what?" I hiss, slapping the check down on the railing. "A bribe? A price tag for my daughter? Do you even hear yourself right now?"

"We just want the best for her," he replies. "You can't give her what we can, April. You know that."

"Because you stole it from me."

"Again with that story?—"

"Yes, Dad, again with that story! You robbed me so your new wife could strut around in Cartier and YSL, and don't you dare deny it!"

"Nora will raise her right," he insists. "She will teach her discipline, respect. Things you clearly lack."

"Oh, so Nora put you up to this?"

"I didn't say that."

"But you did, Dad. You just did."

I can see the slow transformation on Dominic's face taking place—a Daphne in reverse. His wooden expression turns heated, back to flesh and bulging veins. The Dominic I remember. "So what? So what if this is Nora's idea, huh? She owes you nothing. You're not even family to her and she's willing to give you this—and now, you don't want it?"

"She owes me nothing? She owes me half a million dollars ."

"So this is greed then? Fine!" He picks up his cursed checkbook again and jots down another sum, this time much larger. "Now, will you see reason?"

Then he shoves it in my hands.

Against my better judgment, I read it. I know there's no price that could possibly talk me into this, but my eyes still gravitate towards the number.

Half a million.

Just like that, in my hands, ready to change my life.

Of course they can offer that now: what Nora didn't flush down the drain of Coco Chanel handbags, Dominic invested. No doubt, that sum has tripled by now, with more to come in the future.

But it still doesn't make sense. Whether it's chump change to them now or not, it's still money. Money they're willing to give me—and for what? Another stray kid to pitter-patter around in their spotless halls?

"She didn't even want me here," I say. "She didn't want me, so why…"

It comes together slowly, then all at once. Like a grim, horrifying puzzle, every dirty piece finally falls into place: the cruel pranks, the bullying, the twins yanking my baby out of my arms. Anne's aggressive attitude when she talked back to her mother, the kind she would usually reserve for me.

Why aren't you wearing pigtails anymore?

"They're rebelling," I realize. "They're teenagers now. They don't have an outlet anymore, so they're turning against you. And you can't handle that."

"How dare you…!"

"But it's true, isn't it?"

Dominic stiffens. His gaze starts to wander, everywhere but towards my eyes.

That's all the proof I need.

"You want another plaything." Each word I'm saying sounds less real than the one before it. "You turned your daughters into monsters, and now, you can't control them."

"Careful," he hisses. "Or else the offer's off the table."

"You know what you can do with your offer?" I spit. "With your dirty, stolen bribe?"

Then I do something I never thought I'd do.

I tear it up.

I tear up half a million dollars.

Dominic looks at me like I've finally gone mad. Mad like my mother, the mistake he could never forget. My existence alone made sure of that. "Have you lost your damn mind?"

"Actually, I think I've finally found it again."

"Listen—"

"No, you listen," I interrupt. "You all listen."

They crawl out of the woodwork like worms: Kate, Diana, Anne… and behind them, Nora. Eavesdropping, all of them. Like I knew they would be.

Nora's face twists. "April, quit this tantrum this instant. Your daughter?—"

"My daughter is not for sale."

"Lower your voice!" Dominic snarls. "The neighbors will?—"

"I don't care if they hear me all the way to Staten fucking Island."

"Staten Island?" Nora blinks. "What's that got to do…?"

"I never told him I was pregnant," I explain icily. "I never told anyone he knew—except for one person. So tell me, Nora: how do you think he knew?"

Watching Nora's perfect mask fall to pieces is the first good thing that's happened since I stepped foot here. "You said you weren't talking to her," she splutters at Dominic, all grace lost. "You…!"

"Oh, believe me," I snort. "If I know Eleanor, they're doing a lot more than talking."

"Dad?" Diana demands.

"Is this true?" Kate asks.

Only Anne stays silent. Even as all hell breaks loose on the respectable Flowers balcony, Anne doesn't say a single word.

Until she does.

"It doesn't change anything, you know."

I blink. "What?"

"I said it doesn't change anything," she repeats. For once, her smile is gone. "You're still a failure. You'll fail as a mother, too."

Silence falls around us. It's like the world has gone still on my behalf: only me, my sister, and the frozen blood in my veins.

Failure.

"I bet it wouldn't even take much to get custody," she muses. "Any judge would see we're the better option. So just take the money, hm, sweetheart?"

"That's right." Dominic regains his composure with a haughty sniffle. "I'm sorry you thought this was a negotiation, April. It's not. Either you take what we're offering, or we'll just take her."

"I see."

"I'm glad you underst?—"

"Then try."

Dominic blinks. "What was that?"

"I said, Try ," I repeat. "Try taking my daughter and see what the fuck happens."

All this time, I've had one thought hammering at the back of my head—a single, pressing regret. If only Matvey were here.

But now, I'm fed up with it. I'm tired of waiting for someone to save me. For someone to care about me.

If Matvey isn't here to pull the trigger, I'll just do it for both of us.

"‘See what happens'?" Nora echoes. "Nothing will happen, April. You have no resources, no family?—"

"I have a boyfriend," I exhale softly.

"Right," Anne smirks. "The ‘CEO.'"

"Yes. And the head of the Groza Bratva."

Dominic's face falls. Nora's, too. The twins just look confused, but Anne…

She's heard of them. She knows what I'm talking about.

"You're lying," she hisses.

"Then by all means, test me. Better yet, test him. Like I said: see what happens." I circle the herd of Flowers devil spawn with measured steps, then calmly stop in front of my father. My blood , like Matvey would say. "But if you ever try to take my child again, I won't grace you with a warning."

"You're threatening us?" Dominic stammers. "Your own family?"

"You're not my family," I reply. "None of you. So stay the fuck away from my daughter."

I elbow my way past the little crowd of four, ramming straight into Nora's side. "You're making a big mistake," she warns.

I don't spare her a single glance. "Enjoy the monsters you created."

Then I show myself out.