Page 67 of The Queen's Denial

I’m not sure how to respond to this. I’m certain we’ve never had an exchange like this, and it is so strange. “Certainly, Oto-san.”

My father drops heavily into the chair across from me, and this time I do look up into his eyes. They are tired. They’re almost imploring. It’s as if he wants to ask me a question that has been keeping him up at night but can’t bring himself to do it.

He looks out the window. “I always wonder what you would do. What you would choose if you could choose anything you wanted. But you know what, my Chichi-chan? I don’t think any of us can really choose. We only think we can. And if we really could, we would just be confused and disoriented, too overwhelmed with all the choices to make a good decision.”

I lick my lips and bite down, suddenly wanting to say so much but unable to at the same time.

Then my father pins me with that beseeching, curious look again, and I just know I’m about to spill everything, even though I can’t. I have never been able to confide in my father. I’ve never been able to confide in anyone, because he’s right; I don’t know what I would want if I could choose. But I know for certain it’s not to marry Asuka.

I do want everything that will come with that, though. It’s who I’m meant to be - who I’ve always wanted to be. I am good at it. I just… want love. I know love can only come with one person, and Asuka will never be him.

My father calls me a “good girl,” but I’ve only been this way because it was easier than not being one. It was easier than swimming against the tide, slammed down by the waves, and being thrown back onto the beach with a mouth full of saltwater over and over.

But what if I could have learned to swim through the waves? Under and over, moving with the tide? What if I could navigate a new path without having dire consequences each time? Would I have chosen differently for my life?

Would I now?

“Papa, I—”

“It does not matter,” he says, as we both switch to English now. “It does not matter what either of us would want.” He makes such strong eye contact that it pushes me back into my seat. “We cannot have that kind of life, my Chichi-chan. You cannot have everything your heart truly desires anymore than I have ever been able to. You have always understood that. You still understand, don’t you?”

Again, his eyes are beseeching, as if asking me to say the wrong thing. As if begging me to contradict him. But as he knows, although I’m the life of the party because he allows it, I’m still his good little Chichi-chan.

“Yes, Oto-San. I still understand. I will always make you proud.”

He blinks hard, nearly wincing, I think, before giving me a firm head nod. “Good girl.”

*****

I fall asleep on the couch in the library for the second night in a row, not wanting to leave the comfort of my favorite room in this mansion for a moment before I leave for Japan. I’m quite aware that I’ll be back often after I move out there. I know that this won’t be my last time in this library. But for some reason it feels like it will be intrinsically different in a way I can’t even put my finger on. Like as a married woman, I won’t even be able to make the decision to fall asleep on a hard leather lounger in this spacious room with natural sunlight and all the books my little heart desires.

I wake up with a start and realize immediately that I’ve heard the unmistakable pop of a gun with a silencer. I know the sound, even though it’s clearly a well-chosen silencer for an already quiet gun. The lights in the library have been shut off, which I don’t remember doing myself.

I pick up the phone next to me and hear no sound. My own phone won’t make a call out. Someone has cut the landline and jammed the signals. Oxy should still be on top of this, but whoever this is knows what the fuck they’re doing and came with a plan. It’s clear after the next pop that I don’t have much time left to figure out what to do.

I feel acid burn the back of my throat as I remember the last time an intruder snuck up on me in my bedroom just a few months ago. I was powerless. But I didn’t have a weapon at that time, and I had a much more cavalier attitude toward possible threats. Now that I’ve been through what I have, even while I can feel my terror grip and claw at me, I also think of what I need to do.

Get your knives. I hear two more pops, closer now, and I realize it’s time to hurry. Although I can shoot, I’ve never been given a gun, but I can get my knife belt from the display case here in the library. I’m proud of my knives and my skill with them, but since I’ve never had a real life reason to use them and they were nearly a quarter of a million dollars, I keep them as a conversation piece in the library.

I creep over to the display and find the key as I hear scuffling down the hall. I know I need to hurry. I open the display with shaky hands and grab my knife belt from its shelf. As I finish closing it quietly, I hear another pop, so close this time, and then what I’ve dreaded most: voices. They’re loud, as if they don’t care who hears them. As if they know I’m trapped the way I feel I am. As if they think there’s no one coming for me, even though there is always someone coming for me.

I strap on my knife belt in seconds before tiptoeing quietly to the door of the library and cracking it open, allowing me to better hear the muffled voices. They speak in English, and I can catch almost the entirety of their conversation.

“Where is she? He wants us to grab her and get her out of here.”

They’re talking about me, obviously. I’m the only girl around here, always and forever surrounded by men. But how are they not worried about my father? I start to feel panic rising in my chest. Where is he? If he hasn’t come for me, he must be hurt.

They’re coming closer, and I feel an urgent need to get the fuck out of here. They say they need to grab me, which must mean they aren’t here to kill me. I have this one advantage.

I creep to the library double doors and peer out down the hall. Only a few steps until I get to my room. Everything is deadly quiet and still. My bare feet are soundless as I sprint down to my suite, but they must sense something anyway.

“You hear that?” One of the men’s voices is way too close — I know they are just around the corner. I swallow the lump in my throat and slow down a bit to mask my footsteps even further, but I know it won’t work. All I can do is get ready for the inevitable.

“Shhh,” I hear far quieter now. “Hey princess, we’re not here to hurt you.” There’s a sinister, snarling chuckle from the other man, and I crouch down, getting into position.

The very moment I see a flash of arm, gun in hand, I throw my knives and sprint the rest of the way to my room. I hear a cry, a moment of hesitation, and then footsteps pounding down the hallway seconds before I throw myself through the door to my bedroom, locking it behind me.

They are going to break the door down any time now, I’m sure, but I have just a few seconds to collect myself. I can’t figure out why my father hasn’t come for me, and I wonder if Daiki is on his way. He should be here any time now. Why hasn’t anyone come for me?

---