Page 28 of Daddy's Dirty Little Secret

“What are you doing in here?” he asked, voice thick, words slightly slurred.

I stood up from the chair slowly. “I came by because I was worried. You weren’t answering your phone.”

He looked past me, toward the desk. “You went through my desk?”

I hesitated too long, and his jaw tightened. He took a drink before slamming the glass down on the edge of the desk, liquid sloshing over the rim.

“You think you get to come in here and dig through my life like it’s yours to fix?” His voice rose, shaking with anger.

“You’re in over half a million dollars of debt,” I said, the words escaping before I could think better of it. “I saw the ledger.”

For a moment, he didn’t move. His expression flickered between rage and something else—fear, maybe, or shame—but it hardened just as quickly. “It’s none of your damn business.”

I took a step toward him. “You’re my dad. Of course it’s my business.”

He pointed toward the hallway with the bottle. “Get out. You don’t belong in here. You don’t know what you’re doing.”

“I’m trying to help,” I said, voice trembling now.

“Well, I don’t want your help. Just go home. I’ve handled worse than this without anyone holding my hand.”

I didn’t look back. I walked to the car with my vision blurred, my chest tight, the weight of everything pressing in from all sides. Once inside, I sat for a moment, staring out at nothing, the silence around me louder than anything he’d said. I had come to check on him, to feed him, to make sure he was okay—but all I’d done was open something I wasn’t prepared for. And now I couldn’t unsee it.

I started the engine and pulled away from the curb, not knowing where I was going, only that I couldn’t stay. I felt hollow, shaken, like a thread had snapped inside me. I had never seen him like that. I had never felt so far away from him. I drove without direction, hoping the motion would steady me, but the farther I went, the more lost I felt.

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