Page 54 of Corrupted Union

I only madeit to noon before I was practically twitching to get back to Rowan. Her father was home with her, and I was confident his security detail could manage one morning. No one even knew we were back in the city. Yet the need to be near her sank its claws in deep and wouldn’t let go.

When I finally caved and returned to the Alexander home, a haggard Evan answered the door. I hoped he and Rowan hadn’t fought. I suspected me beating the shit out of him would stunt the progress I’d begun to make with my new bride.

Rowan wasn’t anywhere to be seen, so I decided to seize the opportunity and have a private word with her father.

“Rowan told me about her sister.” I decided to dive right in. No reason to dance around the matter. “I had no idea she had a twin.”

He froze briefly midway through bolting the door. “It’s not easy to talk about. I’m surprised she mentioned Ivy at all.” His voice was laden with a profound weariness.

“She didn’t mention her so much as have a breakdown.” I wanted him to know that Rowan was suffering. It was about damn time they faced that fact.

Alexander placed a hand on the entry console to brace himself. “What happened?”

“Finding that girl over at the Wellingtons’ seems to have brought her grief and fears to the surface. How bad did she struggle after it first happened?”

“Rowan’s a tough one. We’d hear her cry at night, but otherwise, she handled it with such strength.”

I’d been afraid of that.

Anger pricked under my skin. “No six-year-old is that strong,Evan. Did you talk to her about it? See how she was coping?”

His eyes narrowed. “Talking about it wasn’t easy. I lost a daughter, too, you know,” he shot back at me. “And besides, Rowan coped just fine. She grew into an incredible young woman.”

“No, she crammed herself into a mold to suit your expectations in a desperate attempt not to disappoint you. There’s a fucking difference.” My tone edged on hostile. I took a slow breath to calm myself. “Tell me you at least sent her to a grief counselor.”

His defiant glare was his only response.

“Jesus, Alexander. Don’t tell me you have no clue how much pain your daughter lives with every goddamn day. Why do you think she was even dating Wellington’s son? Because she loved that asswipe? Not a chance. She was doing it foryou. She’s so messed up that she doesn’t even know who she is. She’s only ever let herself be who she thinks she’s supposed to be.” It was harsh, but someone needed to quit sugar-coating the truth.

His entire body flinched. “That can’t be. I would have known …”

“Would you? Or did you see what you wanted to see? That is, when your ambitions occupied your complete focus.”

His gaze lifted. I expected to feel the stab of an angry glare but saw only contrition in his mournful brown eyes. He studied me for a moment, head tilting to the side. “You care about her, don’t you?”

The wonder in his voice pissed me off. I held up my hand to display the ring tattooed on my finger. “I don’t marry just anyone, regardless of what you may think of me,” I growled. “I don’t know what you thought this was, but I take my oaths seriously.”

His shoulders deflated further until he began to look like a husk of the man I’d first met. “I tried my best, you know. It wasn’t easy,” he said softly.

I could understand those early weeks and months had to have been hell, but over fifteen years had gone by since then. I had trouble overlooking the fact that he’d never once during those years taken a deep enough look at his daughter to see how badly she was suffering.

“I’m not the one who’s owed an explanation,” I said grimly.

Alexander lifted his eyes to mine and gave a single nod. “Are you taking her with you now?”

“I am.”

He nodded again. “I assume she’s up in her room.”

He didn’t need to say any more. Our conversation was over.

I walked past him to the stairs, taking them two at a time. To the left of the landing, I could see into a large masculine office. To the right, a bathroom and two closed doors. Choosing randomly, I opened the door on the left to discover a little girl’s room painted green and left perfectly intact as though waiting for her return.

My stomach twisted with revulsion.

Christ, it was no wonder they hadn’t moved on. The loss was still there, a gaping wound to remind them of their pain every damn day. And right across from the morbid memorial had to be Rowan’s room. She was forced to see that permanently abandoned shrine every day she’d lived in this house.

Shaking my head, I closed the door and walked across the hall. I knocked gently on the door, then opened it when I got no answer. Her room was a pale gray. Tidy. It had been left alone as well, and unlike other rooms occupied by teenage girls, hers held no corkboard full of photos with friends, no ticket stubs or band posters. The room was an empty shell, just like the girl who’d occupied it.

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