Chapter 41

My father's departure left a bitter taste in my mouth, and I paced the living room. Anger simmered just beneath the surface. The urge to lash out burned a hole in my gut. I was so pissed.

Why in the hell did my dad think he could tell me what to do? I was grown. I had my own daughter that I was raising. I didn't need my father's opinion, judgment, or guidance on who I should or shouldn't have in my life. It would be understandable if Graham was dangerous or mistreated me in some way, but Graham was a good man. And he was shaping up to be a good father.

I felt like I was going to explode. I didn't know why I let him get under my skin.

I called Holly. "Where are you?" I blurted out when she answered.

"My office."

"Can you talk?"

"Sure," she answered.

"I'm going to video." I pushed the button to connect the video. I held out my phone, waiting to see her face.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

I recounted the events of my father's visit, the sourness evident in every word I spoke. I could actually taste it on my tongue. "He showed up out of nowhere and had the audacity to tell me he couldn't believe I would stoop so low as to work as an executive assistant for Graham Russell of all people," I seethed.

Holly's eyes widened in disbelief. "Seriously? That's ridiculous."

"I know, right?" I replied with disgust. "I mean, I knew my dad didn't like him, but this is just stupid. He's insulting me for choosing to work for Graham but doesn't accept responsibility about why I left in the first place. He was the one that disrespected me. He constantly overlooked me. I felt as important as a lamp."

She laughed. "You're definitely more valuable than a lamp."

"Thanks." I sighed and shook my head. "He gave me an ultimatum."

"What kind of ultimatum?" she asked. "Is he going to ground you? Take away your toys?"

"Actually, yes," I said, feeling a pit of dread in my stomach.

"What?"

"He gave me until the end of the week to come back to his company or be cut off," I confessed, my voice heavy with resignation.

Holly's brow furrowed in concern. "What are you going to do?"

My jaw clenched with determination. "I'm sick of my father and his demands," I declared, feeling the pit turn into burning defiance. "No matter what it takes, I'm never going back to his company. I hated being overlooked and undervalued. I busted my ass and everyone else got the credit. My dad knew what I was doing but he chose not to acknowledge it."

Holly nodded in agreement. "Yes! You don't need him, Isadora. You are doing great by yourself. Success is the best revenge. Your dad is probably just mad he let you get away. He knows how much you did there and I would be willing to bet he's noticed your absence. Did you negotiate with him at all?"

"No." I shook my head.

"And if he cuts you off?"

I looked around my lavish penthouse that I paid for with my inheritance. "I don't know. I don't know how much he can take from me. My inheritance from my mother is mine. I suppose he could cut me out of the will, but I honestly don't know what he'll do."

"Seems pretty cold," she said.

"That's my father, Mr. Warm and Fuzzy."

Holly's expression turned serious. "Well, whatever happens, just know that I support you one hundred percent. You are more than capable of standing on your own two feet, Isadora. You always have been."

Her words of encouragement brought a sense of calm over me. I knew Holly was right. I had worked hard to get to where I was, and I refused to let my father's manipulation derail me now.

"Thank you." I smiled. "I knew you would talk me off the ledge. I was ready to go nuclear on my father."

She grinned. "I got you."

My other line beeped with Graham's name appearing on the screen. "That's Graham," I said. "I better talk to him. I had to chase him out of here when my dad showed up unannounced."

"Call me later," she said.

I clicked over to Graham's call. I wasn't sure what I was going to tell him about my father. I didn't want him to fall on the sword and dump me to keep me from getting cut off.

"Hi," I answered, trying to sound cool, calm, and collected.

"Are you able to talk?" he asked.

"Yes. I'm alone."

"How did things go with your father?"

"He was an asshole," I replied bluntly, frustrated. Before I could censor my words, they came tumbling out. "Told me he was going to cut me off if I didn't go back to work for him."

"That's not a problem," he assured me. "You don't need to worry. I wouldn't let anything happen to you and Sloane. You will always be taken care of. You don't need his money."

"I can't let you support me."

"I owe you fourteen years of child support," he joked.

For a moment, I was tempted to tell him how much his words meant to me—to confess the feelings that had been growing within me with each passing day. "I don't think I need to worry about that right now," I said. "He's just throwing his weight around."

"Dora, I am here for you and our daughter," he said, his tone serious.

"Thank you, Graham," I said, my voice filled with genuine appreciation. "I really appreciate your support. But I think it'll be fine. My father has been mad before. He'll calm down. And besides, I know I can make it on my own."

"I know you can," he replied. "You're incredibly intelligent and capable, Isadora. I have no doubt you'll succeed, no matter what challenges come your way. But I'm here. You don't have to prove anything to me."

I smiled. The sound of his voice felt like a warm hug. "Thank you."

I heard the notification for a message. I checked the text from Sloane.

"Can you come get me?" the text read, simple yet laden with unspoken urgency.

"I need to go," I said. "Sloane just texted and needs me to come and get her."

"Is everything okay?" he asked.

"I'm sure it is," I reassured him. "But I'll let you know."

I didn't have time to call for a ride, which meant I was going to navigate Manhattan traffic on a busy weekend. But my daughter needed me, and if I was willing to walk through fire to get to her, I could handle traffic. Climbing into my car, I couldn't help but marvel at the sense of freedom that came with being behind the wheel. I did like driving. I wished I did it more often.

Sloane sent me a pin drop, which I put into the GPS. When I arrived at the address Sloane had sent, I saw her waiting on the curb. The moment I saw her, I knew something was wrong. Her face was drawn and pale. I hopped out to help her into the car, but she waved me off. I watched as she hobbled toward the car and pulled the door open.

As soon as she settled into the passenger seat, her tears began to flow.

"What happened, sweetheart?" I asked gently, my voice soft with concern.

"I saw a text from Todd's ex," she sobbed.

I wasn't sure why she was crying. "Did you see what it said?"

"No, he hid it right away," she said. "He swore it was nothing. But I just don't know, Mom. What if he's lying to me?"

My heart ached at the pain in her voice, a mother's instinct driving me to comfort her in any way I could. "Sometimes things aren't always what they seem," I offered gently, reaching out to brush away her tears. "If you like Todd, you should trust him. And if something is happening, you'll find out."

With a heavy sigh, Sloane leaned back in her seat, her tears slowly subsiding. "Why would he hide it?"

"Maybe he didn't want to worry you unnecessarily," I suggested.

Sloane had always been sensitive. "Then he should just tell me."

She was fourteen. This was just the beginning of the boy troubles. I hoped the worst thing that ever happened to her in a relationship was a boy got a text from his ex.

"Let's go get ice cream," I suggested.

"I don't want ice cream," she pouted.

"Fine. I'm going to get a treat for me."

I didn't tell her I was having a shitty day as well. She didn't need to know about my father and his threat to take away my money. I drove to the ice cream shop that I hadn't visited in what felt like forever.

The little bell above the shop door chimed as we walked in, the familiar scent of sugar and waffle cones enveloping us. Sloane perked up a bit at the sight of the array of ice-cream flavors displayed behind the glass counter. Her eyes scanned over each option with a spark of interest. I watched her with a small smile. That was the good side of being fourteen and suffering from heartbreak. It was a pretty easy fix. There was always another boy on the horizon.

"What flavor are you getting, Mom?" Sloane asked.

I pretended to ponder my choice for a moment, though I already knew exactly what I wanted. "I think I'll go with the classic mint chocolate chip," I said, smiling at Sloane. "What about you?"

Sloane's eyes lit up as she pointed to a bright pink bin. "I want the bubblegum flavor!"

The young lady working at the counter handed us our treats. I paid and we found a small table by the window to sit. Taking a bite of my ice cream, I watched Sloane enjoy hers with a sense of contentment.

"How is your foot?" I asked.

"Fine. I'm already sick of the cast."

"It's been a week."

"I know," she muttered. "I want to go swimming."

"Soon," I assured her.

"Did you hang out with Graham—Dad? What should I call him?"

"You can call him whatever you're comfortable with," I said. "If you want to call him Dad, then do it. He's not going to mind."

"It feels so weird to have a dad," she said as she licked her ice cream.

"It's a big adjustment," I acknowledged. "He wants to get to know you and be there for you, Sloane. Just take your time. He only wants what is right for you."

Sloane nodded thoughtfully, taking another bite of her bubblegum ice cream. "Did you love him?"

I almost choked. "What?"

"Did you love him when you got pregnant with me?"

"I suppose I did," I admitted. "I was young. When you're young, you don't always look ahead. It's hard to understand life when you've never had experience."

I could see the curiosity in Sloane's eyes as she absorbed my words, her expression thoughtful. It was strange to discuss these things with her now, after so many years of keeping the past hidden away. But maybe it was time to start being more honest with her, especially as she navigated her own stormy teenage years.

"Love is a complicated thing, Sloane," I continued, licking my ice cream absentmindedly. "Your father and I cared for each other, but we were young and na?ve. We both made mistakes, but you were never one of them."