The Truth About My Father

The Truth About My Father

Dinner was a quiet affair.

Ezra took her to a restaurant hidden in the basement of an old building, a place with no sign on the door and no menu posted outside. The host knew Ezra by name. The waiter brought wine without asking. The table was in a private corner, surrounded by velvet curtains, and Vienna felt like she had stepped into another world.

She ordered fish she could not pronounce. She drank wine that probably cost more than her weekly rent. She laughed at things he said and touched his hand across the table and pretended that her brother's words were not echoing in her head with every breath.

He is the reason our father is dead.

Ezra must have sensed something was wrong. He watched her through the candlelight, his dark eyes steady and searching, and he asked fewer questions than usual. He did not push. He did not demand. He just sat with her in the quiet and let her be.

By the time dessert arrived, Vienna could not take it anymore.

"I need to know everything," she said.

Ezra set down his fork. "About what?"

"About my father. About what happened between you and him. About why Silas hates you so much that he would rather see me unemployed than working for you."

Ezra was quiet for a long moment. He looked down at the table, at the half eaten tiramisu, at the wine glasses stained with red. When he looked up again, his face was different. Softer. Older. Tired in a way that had nothing to do with sleep.

"Not here," he said. "Come home with me. I will tell you everything. But I need to show you something first."

Vienna should have said no. She should have gone back to her apartment, to Silas, to the safe and familiar lies she had been telling herself for weeks. But she was tired of lying. Tired of wondering. Tired of not knowing which man to believe.

"Okay," she said.

---

Ezra's penthouse was at the top of a building on the river.

The elevator opened directly into his living room. Vienna stepped out onto white marble floors and looked up at ceilings that soared two stories high. The walls were glass, floor to ceiling, and the river stretched out below them, dark and glittering with city lights.

She had never seen anything so beautiful.

Or so lonely.

The apartment was immaculate. Every surface was clean. Every piece of furniture was perfectly placed. But there were no photos on the walls. No books on the coffee table. No signs that anyone actually lived here.

Ezra walked to a cabinet against the far wall. He opened a drawer and pulled out a thick envelope, yellowed with age. He held it in his hands for a moment, staring at it like it weighed a hundred pounds.

Then he turned to face her.

"Your father was not just an employee to me," he said. "He was my mentor. My friend. The closest thing I had to a father after mine walked out."

Vienna's chest tightened. "Silas never told me that."

"Your brother was young when everything fell apart. He saw what he saw. But there is more to the story than he knows." Ezra walked to the couch and sat down. He patted the cushion beside him. "Sit. This will take a while."

She sat.

He opened the envelope and pulled out a stack of papers. Old emails. Handwritten notes. A photograph of two men shaking hands in front of a building, both of them younger, both of them smiling.

The younger man on the left was Ezra. The man on the right had Vienna's eyes.

Her father.

"Fifteen years ago, Vance Industries was a fraction of what it is now," Ezra began. "We were a startup. Twenty employees in a rented office. Your father was our lead engineer, and he was brilliant. The kind of brilliant that comes once in a generation. I trusted him with everything."

Vienna traced her finger over the photograph. Her father looked happy. Healthy. Like a man who had not yet been destroyed.

"What happened?"

"A client came to us with a project. A new security system for hospitals. It was ambitious. The timeline was aggressive. But the money was good, better than anything we had ever been offered, and I wanted it. I wanted it so badly I could taste it."

He paused. His jaw tightened.

"Your father told me the project was not ready. He said we needed six more months of testing. He said if we launched early, the system could fail, and if it failed, patients could die."

Vienna's blood ran cold. "Patients could die?"

"Hospitals. Medical records. Life support systems connected to the network. Your father was right. He was always right." Ezra set down the papers and rubbed his face with both hands. "But the board overruled him. They told me if I did not launch on schedule, they would replace me. So I launched. And the system failed."

"How?"

"Not catastrophically. No one died. But there were breaches. Patient data was exposed. Three hospitals had to shut down their networks for forty eight hours. It was a disaster. We lost the client. We lost millions. And the board needed someone to blame."

"They blamed my father."

"They blamed Marcus because he was the lead engineer. Because he had signed off on the final testing. Because he was easier to fire than me." Ezra looked at her, and his eyes were wet. "I let them fire him, Vienna. I sat in that boardroom and I said nothing while they destroyed his career. I have hated myself for it every single day for fifteen years."

Vienna's throat burned. "Silas said you fired him personally."

"I signed the paperwork. That is the same thing to him. And maybe he is right." Ezra reached for her hand. She let him take it. "After your father was fired, I tried to help him. I called other companies. I wrote letters of recommendation. I offered him money, anonymously, but he refused every time. He told my messenger that he would rather die than take a penny from Ezra Vance."

"He said that?"

"He said worse. And he had every right." Ezra's thumb traced circles on the back of her hand. "When I heard he had died, I broke. I stopped eating. I stopped sleeping. I spent a month in this apartment, alone, trying to figure out how to undo something that could never be undone."

Vienna was crying. She had not realized it until she tasted salt on her lips.

"You donated to heart research," she whispered. "Silas told me. He said someone donated in Dad's name."

"That was me. And the scholarships for engineering students. And the annual grant for families affected by medical debt. I have been trying to make amends for fifteen years, but nothing I do will bring him back. Nothing I do will undo the damage I caused your family."

"Then why hire me?" Vienna pulled her hand away. "Why bring me into your office and your bed and your life? Is this some kind of penance? Some way to make yourself feel better?"

Ezra flinched like she had struck him.

"No," he said. "I hired you because you were the most qualified candidate. I read your resume before I ever saw your photograph on the auction site. When I saw your last name, I almost deleted your application. I told myself it was too complicated. Too painful. Too dangerous."

"But you did not delete it."

"No." He leaned closer. "Because I am selfish, Vienna. I am a selfish, broken man who saw a chance to be close to something that reminded me of the best person I ever knew, and I took it. And then I saw you at the auction, and I read your profile, and I realized that you were not just Marcus's daughter. You were you. Fierce and scared and hungry and brave. And I wanted you. Not because of your father. In spite of him."

Vienna wanted to be angry. She wanted to stand up and walk out and never look back. But her body would not move. Her heart would not harden.

"You should have told me," she said.

"I know."

"Before the auction. Before the job. Before I slept with you."

"I know."

"You let me walk into that office not knowing that you had destroyed my family."

"I know." His voice cracked. "And I will spend the rest of my life trying to earn your forgiveness. But I need you to know one thing, Vienna. I need you to believe it."

"What?"

"I loved your father. I still love him. And I know, with absolute certainty, that he would want you to be happy. Even if it meant being happy with me."

Vienna stood up. She walked to the window and pressed her forehead against the cold glass. The river stretched out below her, black and endless, and she felt like she was drowning.

She thought about her father. The way he used to lift her onto his shoulders. The way he sang off key in the shower. The way he looked at her mother like she was the sun and the moon and the stars.

She thought about Silas. The way he had protected her their whole lives. The way he was dying now, slowly, painfully, and she could not save him.

She thought about Ezra. The way he had held her while she cried. The way he said good girl like it was a prayer. The way he was looking at her now, across the room, his face raw and open and terrified.

"What do you want from me?" she asked without turning around.

"I want you to stay."

"That is not an answer."

"It is the only answer I have." He stood and walked toward her. She heard his footsteps on the marble, slow and careful, like he was approaching a wild animal. "I am not asking you to forgive me tonight. I am not asking you to forget what I did to your family. I am asking you to stay. To let me show you who I am now. To let me earn the right to be in your life."

He stopped behind her. Close enough that she could feel his body heat. Close enough that if she leaned back, she would be against his chest.

She did not lean back.

"I need time," she said.

"Take all the time you need."

"I need to talk to Silas. I need to hear his side again, knowing what I know now."

"I understand."

"And I need you to be patient with me. No pressure. No forty fifth floor conferences. No desk sex when everyone goes home."

He was quiet for a moment. Then he said, "Whatever you need."

Vienna turned around. He was standing inches from her, his hands at his sides, his expression careful and controlled. But his eyes gave him away. They were desperate. Hopeful. Afraid.

She had never seen him look afraid before.

"I am not saying yes," she said. "I am not saying no. I am saying I need to figure out who I am outside of this. Outside of you. Outside of the auction and the money and the job."

"Then take the time. Figure it out." He reached up and brushed a tear from her cheek. "But know that I will be here. Waiting. Whether it takes a week or a month or a year."

"You cannot wait forever."

"Watch me."

Vienna closed her eyes. She let herself feel his hand on her face, his thumb on her cheekbone, his breath warm against her lips. She wanted to kiss him. She wanted to scream at him. She wanted to disappear and reappear as someone else, someone who had never heard the name Ezra Vance.

She stepped back.

"I should go home," she said.

"It is late. Let me call you a car."

She nodded.

Ezra pulled out his phone and made a call. He spoke quietly, efficiently, and within minutes he was leading her back to the elevator. They rode down in silence. The car was waiting at the curb when they stepped outside.

"Vienna." He caught her elbow before she could get in. "Thank you for listening. Thank you for staying long enough to hear the truth."

"I have not decided what the truth is yet."

"I know." He kissed her forehead, soft and brief. "But you are willing to look for it. That is more than I deserve."

She got into the car. She did not look back.

But as the car pulled away from the curb, she pressed her hand to her forehead, where his lips had been, and she cried.

---

The apartment was dark when she got home.

Silas was asleep in his hospital bed, his chest rising and falling in the shallow rhythm she had learned to recognize as troubled. The machines beeped softly. The pill bottles glittered on the nightstand.

Vienna stood in the doorway and watched her brother breathe.

She had spent her whole life protecting him. Working for him. Sacrificing for him. She had sold her body to save his life. She had lied to him to keep him from worrying. She had given up everything, piece by piece, until there was almost nothing left.

And now she had to decide whether the man who had destroyed their father was also the man she was falling in love with.

She did not know the answer.

But she knew she could not find it alone.

She walked to Silas's bedside and sat on the edge of the mattress. He stirred but did not wake. She took his thin, cold hand in hers and pressed it to her cheek.

"I am going to figure this out," she whispered. "I am going to figure out what really happened to Dad. And then I am going to decide what to do about Ezra. But whatever I decide, I need you to trust me. Can you do that?"

Silas did not answer. He was too deep in sleep, lost to the painkillers and the exhaustion and the disease that was eating him alive.

Vienna kissed his hand and set it back on the blanket.

Then she went to her room, closed the door, and lay down in the dark.

She did not sleep.

She just stared at the ceiling and thought about Ezra's eyes when he said watch me.

And she wondered, for the first time, whether her brother's worst enemy might also be the best thing that had ever happened to her.