“You remind me of your mother.”
A flicker of heat ignites in my chest. Because of course he would go there.
“That’s not an answer.”
“You want the truth, Cecely? The truth is complicated.”
I huff out a laugh, crossing my arms. “It’s also not what I asked.”
His jaw tics as I lean in, lowering my voice.
“You can spin this however you want, but I see through you. You don’t care about me. You never have. So why am I here now?”
His expression hardens. But he still doesn’t answer. Instead, he shrugs, like none of this matters.
“You’re my daughter. I should have brought you into my life a long time ago.”
“Bullshit.”
His eyes flick to mine, sharp. “Careful, Cecely.”
“No, you be careful. Because I don’t give a damn about your carefully crafted image. You can control everyone else in this house, but you will never control me.”
Silence. Then he smirks, like he’s enjoying this.
“Maybe I was wrong about you.” His voice is almost amused. “Maybe you are my daughter, after all.”
That? That pisses me off more than anything else. Because I am nothing like him. I won’t let myself be.
I press forward. “You’re afraid.”
His jaw locks.
I tilt my head. “Why?”
He exhales sharply, rubbing a hand over his face. “This was a mistake.”
“Bringing me here?”
He doesn’t answer, which means yes. The realization should hurt. But it doesn’t. Because now I know for certain that this isn’t about me. It never was.
“Tell me the truth, Blanc. Why am I really here?”
His shoulders rise and fall. For a moment, I think he’s going to dodge again.
But then he speaks. “Because Gabriel is coming.”
I freeze.
He meets my gaze, and there’s no amusement left. No smugness. Just the bitter truth.
“And if he doesn’t kill me first… I think he’ll come for you next.” A pause. “Or your mother.”
Blanc’s voice is grim, certain. Like this is something he’s already prepared for.
“That doesn’t make sense.”
Blanc scoffs. “Doesn’t it?”