Page 153 of Empire of Ache & Ruin

Dad can’t hurt Archer anymore, but Freya may be in danger. While I still can’t wrap my head around what Dad did to Archer’s dad twenty years ago, I now know what Dad is capable of when his own livelihood is on the line.

I sift through the conversation I had with Dad three months ago when I showed up at the beach house demanding answers. I do remember telling him that I knew Freya, which means he knows she’s also alive and a threat to him. Hopefully by now Freya is long gone. Unlike her son, she doesn’t want revenge. All she ever wanted was for her family to be safe.

Fisher will protect her. He has to. I’m sure Dad is up to something. Something more sinister than stealing Archer’s fortune.

“I see. This Gardenia.” He makes a dismissive gesture. “She’s disputing the legality of your wedding to Archer.”

I swallow hard. I don’t care if Gardenia doesn’t thinkheand I were ever married. Our marriage was real. I fist my hands. I don’t want to talk about him. Or what he was to me.

“What does it matter?” I ask.

He scoffs. “What does it matter? Do you not understand the dire situation we’re in? We need Archer’s vast fortune to secure my seat in the elections. I gave you up to save our family. We deserve this money.”

“Okay.” I swallow the lump in my throat.

“She wants to annul your marriage to him.” Dad makes a fist then releases it. “You will need to appear in front of a judge and confirm the marriage was consummated.”

Tears stream down my cheek. A small crack tears through the barrier holding all his memories away from me.“Beg me for it.” Hisvoice filters through my carefully constructed wall. I shake my head to keep the numbness in place. I can’t think of him like that.

“Okay,” I croak.

“Good.” He reaches for my hand, but I retrieve it on instinct.

He clenches his jaw, but other than that he doesn’t say anything else. The rest of the drive, he remains silent. Having him this close to me is unnerving. It forces me to remember what he is.

As soon as the car pulls up to the curb, I bolt. I hate it when he touches me, when he plays the loving father. I head for the side door. With every step, I feel a little lighter. Dance will always be my safe haven. When I’m on stage, I feel like nothing can hurt me.

“Good morning.” I say to Paul who’s on the floor outside his dressing room stretching.

“I’m still mad at you.” He reaches for his toes.

He’s not. But I can understand why he’s making it a point to have me pay the toll every morning. I hurt him when I left without a goodbye, when I didn’t reach out to him for months. Since I came back, he stays close to me to make sure I’m okay. He cares about me despite his hurt feelings.

“Oh I almost forgot.” I reach into my gym bag and retrieve the container Sole put in there just for Paul. “Your croissants. She baked them this morning.”

“Fine.” He takes the pastries from me, pursing his lips to hide a smile. “I texted you last night. You were extra quiet when you left.”

“Everything is okay. I promise. I told you I lost my phone.” I stop to inhale when the memory of how I lost my phone floats to the front of my mind.

I seehimreaching into the frozen lake to save me. I seehimcrawling into bed naked to keep me warm. I shake my head before the avalanche of memories engulfs me. I don’t want to see.

“Hey, are you okay?” Paul jerks to his feet.

“Yeah. Just got a little lightheaded.” I plaster on a smile for him.

“It’s been months since you lost your phone. Why haven’t your replaced it?” he asks, ushering me to my own dressing room.

“I’ve been busy.” And also, Dad has made sure I don’t have access to a phone anywhere I go. I don’t care. I have no way of reaching out to Gardenia, Fisher, or Jacob anyway. Besides, after all this time, I doubt they’re still in the States. Why am I thinking about them? I need to stop. “You’ll be the first to know when I get my phone back.” I take the seat he offers me and remove my sneakers.

“Alright. Get ready for warmups. You might not be the star of the show this time, but you know Pierre expects perfection from all of us.” He turns to leave then stops. “And thank you for the croissants. They’re my favorite.”

“You’re welcome.” I chuckle.

He shuts the door behind him, and I grab my ballet shoes.Am I a ballerina just like you?The words swirl in my head. I push all thoughts of my recurring dream away and head to the practice room. As soon I walk through the doors, my mind goes pleasantly blank, and every muscle in my body relaxes. I’m safe here.

For the next two hours, I’m gloriously lost to learning the choreography of Coppélia, a classic tale of an eccentric toy maker and the lifelike doll he creates. I came in too late into the spring season to have a main role. The part Pierre assigned to me suits me just fine though. I get to be here, and that’s all that matters.

When we move on to rehearsals on stage, I spot Dad in the house right away. In the past few weeks, he’s made time to come and see me as much as possible. It’s eerie the way he sits there watching me even when I’m not dancing. I do my best to ignore him and focus on my form.

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