Page 216 of My Dark Prince
“You’ll understand if you decide to have a child of your own.” Cooper offered me the sad smile of a man who’d made peace with his ghosts. “The moment you became my daughter, you inked yourself into my soul. Not for one day, or one year, or even one decade.Forever. That’s what being a parent is. A lifetime commitment. That paternity test? It’s just a fancy piece of paper. It doesn’t tell the real story.”
“And that is?”
“Family has nothing to do with blood. It’s about the people who enter your life and fill up empty spaces you didn’t know existed until you can’t imagine life without them.”
I raised a brow, unable to hide my incredulity. “Idid that for you?”
Other than my boring academic accomplishments, my greatest childhood achievements included surviving three straight school years without eating a single vegetable (simplythanks to my parents’ neglect), hiding books under my pillow to read past midnight (not that my parents would’ve cared enough to stop me), and conjuring make-believe friends to keep me company (Philomena put an end to this after all the weird looks I got from talking to myself).
“Absolutely.” A full-bellied chuckle shook his frame. “Every time I found traces of you, it fueled me. I couldn’t even be upset when I missed you by mere weeks, because you always left a piece of yourself wherever you went. That library book you left behind in Tokyo with the silly sticky notes stuck inside. Or the unexpected nap you took in the middle of yourNutcrackerperformance in third grade. All fifteen thousand YouTube views are probably me. Or that rose mural you painted before leaving Budapest. I wondered if you’d grow up to become an artist.”
“You saw that?”
“I did. It was my screensaver for years before Rose swapped it with a close-up selfie of the insides of her nostrils.” A faint smile found the edges of his lips. “I saw all the pieces of you that you left behind, and I loved every one of them.”
“And you never gave up.”
I still didn’t believe it. After a lifetime of being an afterthought, this felt like hearing about someone else’s life, not my own. Cooper couldn’t be any more different than Jason and Philomena. Those two made an art form out of parental neglect.
Then, with a fierce tenderness that anchored me, Cooper held my gaze, his voice unwavering.
“I will always search for you, Briar. Even if I never found you, I would keep scouring every corner of the earth on the slightest chance that you’d find out and realize the truth. You were always wanted. There has never been a moment in your entire life that you weren’t loved.”
Chapter Ninety-Eight
Briar
Not again.
I dropped my duffel bag to the carpet with a soft thud and wiped my keycard on the edge of my shirt. A yawn ripped past my throat.
Cooper and I swapped stories past sunset, only stopping when the twins begged for dinner. As much as I wanted to join, I could barely keep my eyes open. Marcy, the director, would kill me if I showed up late to the morning meeting. Besides, my family would be in their Grand Regent suite all summer, courtesy of Ollie’s arrangement.
I swiped my keycard again and waited for the telltale green light. Nothing. With a frown, I swiped yet again, this time slower. The lock stayed red. A dull, angry beep confirmed my suspicion. My blood pressure spiked. The fastthump-thumpof my heart ricocheted between my ears.
“No, no, no. Not again.” I pressed my forehead to the cold door. “Fucking Oliver.”
I’d kill him.
After I thanked him.
A maid backed out of a room down the hall, pushing a cart stacked high with towels.
“Hey, there.” I flagged her down, trying to keep my voice level despite feeling like I’d just stepped on a Lego barefoot. “I’m so sorry to ask, but can you let me into my room? I think my keycard broke during my work trip.”
“I’m not allow—” The maid cocked her head, her eyes brightening a moment later. “Oh, of course, Mrs. von Bismarck. Welcome back.”
Mrs. von Bismarck?
I wanted to groan. What did Oliver tell his staff?
She swiped her master key while I weighed the pros and cons of strangling Oliver versus kissing him senseless.
Relax, Briar. You don’t know whether he did what you’re accusing him of.
Except he did. The maid proved it the second she swung open my door, revealing an empty unit. My mouth tumbled open. Everything – and I meanteverything– was gone. Not just my unpacked boxes, mountain of clothes, and random knickknacks, but also the couch, bed, television, and coffee table. Things I didn’t even own.
Even my candles, half-burned on the counter, had disappeared. Someone had scrubbed away every trace of my fourteen hours here, emptying the floors of objects and replacing the walls with a fresh coat of paint that still reeked of chemicals.
