Danielle’s words fell like stones in the quiet room, each one sharp, deliberate—a challenge he couldn’t ignore. Alexander didn’t move, his hands tightening imperceptibly on his knees.
When he finally spoke, his voice was rougher than before, as if every word cost him. “As I see it, everything that’s happened—where we stand now, all of it—is exactly what you wanted.” He met her gaze, unflinching. “Now you tell me that’s not true, but honestly, does it even matter anymore?”
Danielle’s eyes flashed. “What do you mean, it doesn’t matter? What kind of place is this, then? Did it matter before? Fine, if you claim I’m not the same person I used to be, then tell me everything. I want to know what you’re actually doing—because if you expect me to trust you, I need more than empty promises. You keep saying you don’t want to hurt me or our daughter, but nothing you’ve said or done has ever made me believe that.”
She drew a shaky breath, her voice trembling with hurt and anger. “You know perfectly well she’s always longed for your love. She’s wanted nothing more than to call you Dad, but you wouldn’t even let her do that. And yet you expect Raffy to call you ‘father,’ treat him like your own flesh and blood. But your real daughter? You never even spare her a glance. Tell me, Alexander—does she not count as your child in your eyes?”
A thousand questions crowded Danielle’s mind—questions she’d never dared ask until now. She couldn’t be sure he’d answer, but the look on his face told her he had no intention of doing so.
Gone was the cold indifference he usually wore. Now, pain creased his brow; he looked at her as if seeing her for the first time—a woman he’d planned for, calculated for, and used.
“That’s all this has ever been, isn’t it?” Danielle’s voice was icy. “You never saw me or your daughter as people. We’re just pieces in your game. You think what you’re doing is for our own good, but did you ever even ask us what we wanted?”
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