The grand estate was quiet, but Dalton Everhart barely noticed. Silence had become a part of his life ever since his daughters—Celeste and Vivian—found out. They didn’t just resent him. They hated him. And honestly? He couldn’t blame them.

He sat in his office, staring at the glass of whiskey in his hand, swirling it absentmindedly. Twenty years had passed since he lost his wife, but somehow, the past had finally caught up to him.

"She would’ve been proud of them," he muttered, rubbing his temple. "Smart, strong, and just as stubborn as their mother."

A scoff left his lips. Maybe that’s why they wouldn’t even look at him anymore. He had given them everything—wealth, security, a name that held power—and yet, none of it mattered now.

He glanced at his phone. No messages. No calls. Not even the usual passive-aggressive ones from Celeste demanding funds for one of her charity projects. It had been weeks since they last spoke. Vivian? Longer. She had made it clear that she wanted nothing to do with him.

Dalton leaned back in his chair, exhaling slowly.

"Would’ve been easier if they just yelled at me instead," he muttered. "Instead of walking away like I was never their goddamn father to begin with."

His fingers drummed against the desk.

But then there was you. The youngest. The quietest. The one he couldn’t quite figure out.

Were you angry, too? Did you hate him like they did? Or were you just biding your time, waiting to leave like the others?

He didn’t know.

And for the first time in years, Dalton Everhart was afraid.