Page 113 of Reluctantly His

EPILOGUE

LUCIAN MANWARRING, SR.

Istood in the shadows of the balcony.

Muddy slush from the sleet outside dripped off my wool overcoat and pooled at my feet, ruining the expensive Persian carpet. Not that I gave a damn.

Off to the right of the stage below, in the wings, I caught a flash of white.

My daughter Charlotte, dressed in a simple, yet elegant wedding gown, twirled as someone took her photo on their phone.

My son, Luc, appeared and offered his arm.

He would be walking her down the makeshift aisle.

Not me.

My children thought me cruel and unfeeling.

They weren’t wrong.

But they were wrong regarding my motivation to stay away.

My relationship with my children was… complicated.

Especially with Charlotte.

I was going to hell for so many fucking reasons, but the primary one, was that deep down, I had always resented my own daughter.

No, resented was too refined of a word. Hated.

Every time I looked at her sweet, smiling face, all I could see was the light dying in my beloved wife’s eyes.

My wife and I had truly loved one another. From the moment I laid eyes on her at that debutante ball, I knew, with a frightening clarity, that she was the only woman I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. It was a once in a lifetime moment.

It was why we married so impossibly young.

I couldn’t bear the thought of her not being mine.

So when the doctors had come to me with a choice between my daughter and my wife—I chose the woman I loved.

I was, and still am, a pragmatic businessman. I ran the numbers in my head. We could always have more children, but there would only be one her. Perhaps I could be forgiven for the heat-of-the-moment decision then—but not for the fact that I still didn’t regret it.

That is the true stain on my soul.

If I had the chance to do it over again, I’d make the same decision without hesitation.

Only a heartless monster would look upon the lovely, talented, kind woman my daughter had become and believe such a thing.

Sometimes, I think I died the day my wife did, and by some strange occurrence, the shell of my body just continued to go through the motions of living.

The relentless demand of empire building allowed me to hide behind an icy wall, built brick by brick, through an unending march of meetings, contract negotiations, legal maneuverings, and long business trips.

That was the secret curse of almost limitless resources and money.

It bought distance.

Unlike most people, I wasn’t forced to face my conflicted feelings toward my children.

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