CHAPTER 11

THE FATHER'S BLIND SPOT

I found my father in his study after nine.

He was still in his work shirt, glasses on, reading glasses low on his nose as he went through a stack of printed reports. The lamp on his desk cast a yellow circle over the papers. Everything outside that circle looked darker than it should have.

I knocked once and stepped inside.

"You're still awake," he said without looking up.

"So are you." I didn't let his words cool before I replied.

He smiled slightly and took the glasses off. "These numbers from the logistics division don't look better than you said. You were right to flag them."

I sat down across from him. The leather chair felt too large.

For a moment neither of us spoke. The clock on the shelf ticked the way it had since I was a child.

"I've been meaning to talk to you," I said.

He leaned back. "About the restructuring?"

"About Chloe."

His expression shifted. Not much. Just enough to tell me the subject already bored him.

"What about her?"

I chose the words carefully. I had practiced them on the drive over. Soft enough not to sound accusing. Clear enough that a father who loved his daughter might still hear the warning underneath.

"She's been involved in a lot of private conversations with Ethan. Before we ended things. And some of the people around the company are repeating comments that started with her. Comments about my health. My stability."

She's the only one I've been sharing my words with, as my stepsister.

My father frowned. "People talk. Especially after what happened at the hospital."

"These aren't random people. And the comments are specific."

He set the glasses on the desk and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Ariana. Chloe was the one who stayed with you that night. She was the one who called me. She canceled everything to make sure you weren't alone. If she's been speaking about your health, it's because she's worried."

"She's been speaking about it to people who don't need to know."

"She's protective. She always has been."

My father smiled.

The way he said it made something in my stomach turn.

I tried again. "Dad. I'm asking you to look a little closer. Some of the decisions she's encouraged… some of the people she's brought around… they don't benefit the company. They benefit her position."

His eyes hardened just slightly.

"That's a serious thing to imply."

"I'm not implying. I'm asking you to pay attention."

He stood up and walked to the small bar in the corner. He poured himself a finger of whiskey he probably didn't need. When he spoke again, his voice had the tone he used in board meetings when he wanted a subject closed.

"Chloe has never given me a reason to doubt her loyalty. Not once. After your mother died, she was the one who kept this family from falling apart. She was a child herself, and she still made sure you ate. She still made sure I didn't disappear into work completely. I won't have you rewriting that history because you're angry at Ethan."

The words landed cleanly.

Angry at Ethan. I breathed out gently.

That was the box he had put me in.

I stared at the desk. At the reports. At the old photo of the three of us on the shelf behind him — me, Chloe, and him at some charity dinner years ago. Chloe's hand on his arm. My smile too wide.

"I'm not angry," I said. "I'm trying to protect what's ours."

"And I'm trying to protect my daughters from turning on each other." He turned back to face me. "You've been different since the hospital. Colder. Quicker to assume the worst. Chloe has noticed it. I've noticed it. That doesn't mean everyone around you is an enemy. You don't have to think twice, daughter."

The air in the study felt thinner.

I looked at him and searched for any crack in the certainty on his face. Any small opening that said he was willing to doubt her for even one second.

There was nothing.

He believed her.

He believed the version of Chloe who cried at the right moments and stayed late at hospitals and spoke in soft, worried sentences about my mental state.

He believed her so completely that my warning sounded like paranoia.

Something inside my chest pulled tight, then went quiet.

I stood up.

"All right," I said.

My father sighed, softer now. "I know the engagement ending was difficult. And I know Chloe can be… enthusiastic in her concern. But she loves you. That's not something I question."

"I know you don't."

I walked to the door.

He called after me. "Ariana."

I stopped but didn't turn around.

"I'm glad you're taking a more active role in the company," he said. "Just don't do it in a way that isolates you from the people who care about you."

I nodded once.

Then I left.

The hallway outside the study was dark. I walked through it without turning on the lights. My heels sounded too loud against the floor.

In the original future, this conversation had never happened. I had never tried to warn him. I had simply trusted that he would see the truth on his own, eventually.

He never had.

Tonight I had given him the chance.

He had looked straight at it and chosen the softer story. The easier one. The one where Chloe was still the loyal daughter and I was the girl who had become too sharp after a hospital stay.

I reached the front door and stepped out into the night.

The air was cold. I didn't bother pulling my coat tighter.

Somewhere behind me, in that study, my father was probably finishing his whiskey and telling himself he had handled the conversation well. That his daughters would find their way back to each other. That family held if you simply refused to let it crack.

He was wrong.

And for the first time, I stopped hoping he would be right.

The blind spot wasn't temporary.

It was permanent.

And it had just cost me the last piece of safety I thought I still had in that house.