Page 44 of Stealing Daddy's Heart

“Skylar, darling, tell us more about your exhibition. Your dad was telling me all about it after visiting you this afternoon. It sounds so exciting,” she says, her smile brittle.

Grateful for the change of subject, I turn to Skylar. “Yes, why don't you tell them about the new sculptor you've signed? The one who works with recycled steel?”

George grunts in response, his attention fixed on cutting his steak with unnecessary force.

Skylar hesitates, her eyes flicking between her father and me.

“Well,” she begins, her voice softer than before, “his name is Wolf Winters. He creates these incredible sculptures using recycled steel and industrial scrap. He transforms discarded machinery and metal waste into these powerful, abstract forms.”

She pauses, her enthusiasm growing. “Each piece tells a story of rebirth, giving new life to materials that were once considereduseless. It's not just art; it's a statement about sustainability and the beauty that can be found in what others discard.”

As Skylar speaks, her passion begins to override her discomfort. Her eyes light up, her hands moving animatedly as she describes Wolf's work.

As the meal progresses, I notice George's irritation mounting with small things: Skylar leaning close to me as we laugh together, or her referencing something private from our recent conversations. Each instance seems to grate on him, his jaw tightening, his grip on his fork growing white-knuckled.

Finally, as Vanessa begins clearing the plates, George's patience snaps. “Skylar, why don't you help your stepmother in the kitchen?”

It's not a request. Skylar hesitates, glancing between us with concern, but ultimately nods and follows Vanessa out.

The moment they’re gone, George turns to me, his eyes blazing. I brace myself, knowing what’s coming. “My office. Now.”

It’s not a request but a command, and I know better than to argue. I straighten my shoulders, steeling myself for the confrontation that has been brewing all evening.

As we enter his study, George doesn’t even wait for the door to close before rounding on me.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing, Garrett?”

I take a deep breath, fighting to keep my voice calm. “George, I understand your concerns, but?—”

“Concerns?” he scoffs. “You're my best friend, and now you're what, eyeing my daughter like she's some prize to be won?”

His words hit me like a physical blow, striking at the very doubts I've been wrestling with for weeks.

“It's not like that,” I insist, my composure cracking. “Skylar's not a child anymore. She's grown into a strong, capable woman.”

George's eyes narrow dangerously. “So you admit it? You have feelings for her?”

“I never meant for this to happen,” I say quietly. “But I can't change how I feel about her. And I won't apologize for it.”

“And what about the Scarpettas?” George asks, his voice weary. “You think they won't use this against us? Against her?”

“All the more reason to be honest with her,” I argue. “She needs to know what she's up against. We can't keep her in the dark anymore.”

George's eyes flash with anger. “You're old enough to be her father, for Christ's sake!”

“You think this is easy for me?” I growl, taking a step toward him. “I tried fighting these feelings, George. But I can't deny them anymore.”

Something in George snaps. He shoves me hard, sending me stumbling. “You selfish bastard!” he roars.

Instinct takes over, and I retaliate, shoving him back. We grapple, crashing into his desk. Papers scatter, a lamp topples to the floor with a crash.

George gets me in a headlock, his arm crushing my windpipe. “You think you can just waltz in and take her from me?” he hisses.

I drive my elbow back, breaking his hold. We stumble apart, breathing heavily. “It's not about taking her from you,” I gasp. “She's not a possession, George. She's a grown woman who can make her own choices.”

“And you think you're the right choice for her?” George spits, wiping blood from his split lip. “You're going to ruin her life!”

Before I can respond, the door bursts open. Skylar rushes in, her eyes wide with shock as she takes in the scene before her. “What the hell is going on?” she demands, her gaze darting between us.

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