He does, barely.
His eyes are older than they should be. Pain has hollowed his cheeks. Medication has dulled the sharpness that once made boardrooms go silent when he entered. But somewhere beneath the bruising, beneath the humiliation, your father is still there.
“I’m here now,” you say.
His mouth trembles. “Bella, you should leave.”
Vivian laughs behind you. “Listen to him. At least he understands reality.”
You stand slowly.
Marcus is still wearing your father’s watch. Platinum case. Navy dial. The inscription your mother had engraved inside the clasp: For Richard, who built us a life. —Eleanor
Seeing it on Marcus’s wrist makes something cold settle in your chest.
“Take off the watch,” you say.
Marcus looks down at it, then smiles.
“This?” He lifts his wrist. “Richard gave it to me.”
Your father closes his eyes.
You look at him.
“Did you?”
He whispers, “No.”
The word is barely audible.
But it is enough.
You turn back to Marcus.
“Take it off.”
Vivian steps between you. “You don’t get to come into my home and give orders.”
You reach into your handbag and remove your phone.
Then you tap the screen.
A video begins playing.
Vivian’s voice fills the foyer.
“Sign it, Richard. You’re confused. You don’t need all these accounts anymore. Marcus and I can handle things. Take the pill and sign.”
Your father’s voice follows, weak and slurred.
“I need to call Isabella.”
