SASHA’S POV
I adjusted the throw pillow on the small chair beside my father’s bed, my mind racing as I searched for the right words. His sharp, inquisitive gaze pinned me in place, and I fought the urge to fidget under his scrutiny.
My father had always been able to see right through me, a trait that hadn’t dulled even with his recent health battles.
“You haven’t told me much about your husband’s work,” he said, his voice calm yet probing. “What exactly does Sebastian do that keeps him so busy all the time?”
I froze for a second, caught off guard by the question. Sebastian and I had agreed to keep his real work, a dangerous, covert world far removed from ordinary life, away from my father.
My father’s health couldn’t withstand the stress of knowing the truth.
“Oh, well…” I began, stalling as I stood and straightened the corner of his blanket. “Sebastian is…” My thoughts scrambled for a plausible answer, and then it hit me,
Sebastian’s diner. Relief flooded me as I turned to my father with what I hoped was a convincing smile.
“He’s a chef,” I said quickly, the words spilling out. “He runs a diner and loves cooking. It’s his passion.”
My father raised a brow, clearly intrigued. “A chef, huh? I wouldn’t have guessed that. He doesn’t strike me as the type.”
I laughed softly, trying to keep my voice light. “Well, he’s full of surprises. He’s really talented in the kitchen.”
My father chuckled, his tone amused but warm. “You’re telling me this man, who I was sure had a business empire or something, spends his days perfecting recipes and flipping pancakes?”
“Yes,” I said firmly, leaning into the lie as my confidence grew. “He’s incredibly hands-on with his work. He even taught me a few things.”
My father shook his head, a small smile tugging at his lips. “I’d like to see that for myself someday. Maybe he can cook for me when he’s free.”
I opened my mouth to respond but was saved from continuing the fabricated story by a sharp knock at the door.
Relief washed over me as I stood, glad for the excuse to shift the conversation away from Sebastian.
“I’ll get it,” I said quickly, smoothing the front of my dress as I headed for the door.
As I reached for the handle, I caught sight of the figure on the other side through the frosted glass.
My hand faltered for just a moment, my heart stuttering in my chest. When I pulled the door open, I blinked in disbelief.
“Roland?” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.
There he stood, with that same infuriatingly confident smile I remembered, his hands casually tucked into the pockets of his tailored jacket.
His dark hair was neatly combed back, and his piercing eyes locked onto mine with an intensity that made my stomach churn.
“Sasha,” he said smoothly, as if he were a long-lost friend dropping by for a visit.
I stepped out into the hallway, closing the door slightly behind me, instinctively shielding my father from the sight of this man who had once been a shadow over my life. “What are you doing here?” I asked, my voice low but sharp.
Roland tilted his head, his smile never wavering. “I came to see you. We have unfinished business, don’t we?”
I crossed my arms over my chest, trying to mask the unease creeping through me. “I don’t think we do. You shouldn’t be here.”
“Come on now,” he said, his tone laced with mock innocence. “Is that any way to treat an old friend?”
“You’re not a friend, Roland,” I said firmly. “And I don’t have time for this. You need to leave.”
His smile faded slightly, replaced by a more calculating expression. “Sasha, I’m not here to cause trouble. I just want to talk.”
I glanced back at the door, my mind racing. The last thing I needed was for my father to hear or see any of this. Taking a steadying breath, I stepped further into the hallway, pulling the door shut behind me.
“Fine,” I said, my voice low and clipped. “Say what you need to say and then go.”
Roland’s eyes flickered with satisfaction, and he leaned casually against the wall, as if we were simply catching up. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it? You’ve changed. Marriage suits you.”
“Get to the point,” I snapped, unwilling to let him steer the conversation.
He chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Always so direct. Fine. I wanted to see for myself how you’re doing. And to remind you that I’m not someone you can just erase from your life.”
“You’ve already had your say in my life,” I shot back. “I don’t owe you anything, Roland.”
His gaze darkened slightly, but he quickly masked it with a smile. “I’m not here to demand anything. Just to remind you of the connections we share.”
“There are no connections,” I said firmly, my voice rising despite my best efforts to remain calm.
“Whatever we had, whatever you think ties us together, it’s over. It’s been over for a long time.”
Roland straightened, his posture no longer relaxed. “Don’t be so quick to dismiss me, Sasha. You may not see it now, but I can still be… useful to you.”
“I don’t need anything from you,” I said coldly. “Not now, not ever.”
He held my gaze for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Finally, he shrugged, stepping back. “If that’s how you feel, then I’ll respect it. For now.”
I didn’t respond, my hands clenched into fists at my sides.
“Take care of yourself, Sasha,” he said smoothly, turning to leave. But before he walked away, he glanced over his shoulder, his smile returning. “Oh, and give my regards to Sebastian.”
My breath caught in my throat, but I refused to give him the satisfaction of a reaction. I stood frozen in place, watching as he disappeared down the hallway.
When I finally stepped back into the room, my father looked up at me with a questioning expression.
“Everything all right?” he asked, his brow furrowed.
I forced a smile, swallowing the lingering unease Roland had left behind. “Just someone looking for the wrong room,” I said quickly, brushing off his concern. “Nothing to worry about.”
My father didn’t look entirely convinced, but he didn’t press the issue. Instead, he leaned back against his pillows, his earlier curiosity resurfacing.
“So, about Sebastian,” he said, his tone lighter now. “What’s his specialty in the kitchen?”
I let out a breath, grateful for the return to safer territory. “He’s amazing at a lot of things,” I said, sitting back down. “But his signature dish is definitely his steak. Perfectly seasoned, cooked just right. You’d love it.”
My father smiled faintly, the tension in the room easing. “Maybe I’ll hold him to that one day. Invite him over to cook for us.”
I nodded, keeping my smile steady even as my mind wandered back to the hallway and the unsettling presence of Roland. No matter how much I tried to leave the past behind, it seemed determined to find its way back into my life.