11. Amaya

11

AMAYA

T here's a high possibility I am more like my father than I thought.

I'm starting to think I was predisposed to having anxiety and a bad attitude. The anxiety for sure comes from Paul and the bad attitude is all my mother. It's no wonder I can't settle into living with him. My PTSD is through the roof, and I'm pretty sure my lack of normalcy is freaking him out.

We set each other off in all honesty.

Like right now; neither of us knows how to help the other.

I'm shaking like a leaf, and he won’t stop running his hands through his hair. Like the other times we've interacted this past week, it's only because he's asked me to come out of my room.

Not that I haven't left my makeshift nest at all . I just wait for Paul to go to bed so I can grab a snack. His chef has taken to making extra food and leaving me a plate to heat up. Eating in the dim light of the kitchen after midnight has become my only other safe space. Unfortunately, my nest and bedroom don't feel as secure with the amount of times he's come knocking.

Normally, we've just sat at the kitchen table and avoided eye contact. Thankfully, he hasn't mentioned my food consumption since that first disaster of a meal we had together.

This time, there's no food filling our mouths. Separated by his mahogany desk in his office, I wait for him to tell me what I'm doing here.

I'm starting to zone out when he finally clears his throat. "Amaya, I have a few things I would like to discuss with you. Some of which I should have mentioned sooner."

I raise a brow, feigning nonchalance while my heart is actually pounding. Who starts off a conversation like that?!

"Your mother and I..."

"Oh god, please no," I protest, readying to leave his office if he spouts one more word about him and my mom .

"Just listen," he says, voice becoming tense and rooting me to the spot. "I doubt you'll believe what I'm about to tell you, but I need you to try to keep an open mind."

All the directions my mind starts running in make me fucking dizzy.

Paul's nose crinkles. "The only thing I knew about your mother was her name. Nothing else really matters when it comes to a… one-night stand."

Barf. Barfing.

"Hold on," he scolds, narrowing his gaze at me.

If he's using some of his alpha dominance on me, this must be serious. Obviously more serious than a one-night stand.

"Amaya." All traces of the powerful alpha I've seen a few times completely evaporate. In his place is a man with eyes drowning in anguish. "I never spoke to Stephanie after she left the club bathroom."

Gross. A bathroom?

Wait.

My throat closes, and suddenly I don't need food in my mouth to keep from speaking.

Tears fill Paul's eyes, but he still holds my gaze. The next words out of his mouth might not have been believable if I wasn't witnessing the sheer devastation and heartache in an alpha known to be ruthless and strong.

"I didn’t know she was pregnant, Amaya."

I thought I was as broken as I could be, but all my ruined pieces shatter even further when my father drops to his knees in front of me. A tear slips from his eerily similar eyes and mine mimics his.

"When—" I choke. "When did you find out?"

Paul's head drops but only hangs for a second, like he needs to compose himself. He doesn't reach out. Doesn't try to hold my hand. Only looks me in the eye when he blows my world apart.

"When the Rehabilitation Center called me."

I saw the answer coming, and I still gasp and recoil from him like I can physically run from the truth. But do I believe him? Can I believe him?

This would mean I had sixteen years to reach out to him. Sixteen years I thought he never wanted me, yet he just never knew I existed.

My world tips, and my stomach revolts. If I could purge this development with my guts, I would. Up is down, and left feels like it's right. With just one fucking sentence, my entire life could have been different. If I knew he didn't know about me, I would have found him. I could have had a father.

"There's another thing."

I don't know how long I was spiraling in all the possibilities of what could have been if my mom didn't lie to me all my life then sell me.

"I bought you a house."

And just like that, every dream I've had of my father loving me crumbles.

I have to ask. I want to be mad. But the words come out soft and broken. "You what?"

Paul swallows and gets to his feet. Settled behind his desk, he slides over a photo of a house fit for at least a family of five. A rich family of five.

"I'm getting the impression that you need your own space, Amaya. You rarely come out of your room, and I don't think… I don't know if I'm helping or if my penthouse is suited for an omega. It's not warm or cozy. I think you need an environment suited to your needs without an alpha ruining your time of healing."

Silence. Absolute silence.

Not only did I just learn that my father never knew I existed. But in the same fucking breath, I'm hearing that he doesn't want me.

"You... you're having me move out?"

Paul nods, forever cementing himself as just a sperm donor. I bet he only came to get me because it would get out if he didn't and ruin his reputation. This way he can say he tried, but I was too picky and needed more from him.

My god, he bought me a fucking house just to get me away from him.

"I'll visit you all the time. You don't have to worry about food, furnishings, or clothes. I'll cover everything you need. That way all you need to do is focus on getting better."

His eyebrows are a few notches higher than usual as he breaks my heart while he's trying to convince me this is the best thing for me. Maybe it will be. I'll just have to get over the fact that it feels like I lost my father all over again.

He dangled the dream, then snatched it away. Obliterated it .

I didn't know about you until a few weeks ago, but honestly, you're too much work, so I'm doing everything in my power to keep you away from me . That's what I'm hearing.

"Okay," I whisper and stand.

I don't know if he calls out for me as I walk away, but I doubt it nevertheless.

Unwanted . Always unwanted.