“Who are you?” she rasps out, sounding shaken.
Letting out a laugh completely devoid of humor, I say, “I think you know. Now, open the door. It seems you and I have some unfinished business.” I don’t know who is more surprised when she actually does as I ask. She looks like she’s on autopilot when the door swings open and she steps stiffly back. “Lee?”
I’m only mildly surprised she still recognizes me. Other than a few more lines, I still look much the same as I did when I first met her. Unfortunately for her, she barely resembles the girl I once knew; I doubt I would have recognized her on the street had I walked past her. She is thin, pale, and frail looking. Her beautiful blonde hair, which had easily been her best feature, is gone, and now dark hair hangs limply down her back. She looks like someone who has long used and abused drugs. If I didn’t know what I do, I would pity her. Once she had been a beauty. I had been completely taken with her for months before Victor had wanted me to oversee one of his business ventures in South Carolina. I had even pondered taking her with me, but where I was going was no place for a woman, and Victor wanted my head in the game. Therefore, I had broken things off and moved on. There had been no room in my life then for a long-term relationship, and it would have ended eventually. When she starts smoothing her hair self-consciously, I want to tell her not to fucking bother. If she were the most attractive woman on Earth, she would still be ugly to me now. I would look more kindly upon a whore than her. I now know her for the monster she truly is. In answer to her question, I simply say, “Maria.”
“Wh-What are you doing here?” she stutters over the words. She looks around the room as if searching for an escape route. Maybe she isn’t as stupid as I had thought. She looks scared of me, which gives me a perverse feeling of pleasure. Seeing anything close to the desire that used to fill her eyes when we were together, would make me physically ill. I reach back to close the door behind me, wondering if she also thinks the sound of it shutting seems unusually loud.
Turning back to face her, I put my hands in the pockets of my suit pants, rocking on my heels. “Ask yourself, Maria,” I begin idly as if I’m discussing the weather, “what possible reason could I have for seeking you out after all these years?”
She knows; I can see it in the widening of her eyes and sudden paling of her face. Her back stiffens as if preparing to ward off a blow. “I…um, have no clue. We don’t have anything to say to each other. Just…get out.” Her voice wavers on her last words. To someone trained from an early age to detect deceit, she might as well be holding up a guilty sign. From the moment she looked me in the eyes, I could see the truth. If I had any doubt that I was Lia’s father, Maria’s actions in the last few minutes would have given me the answer I needed.
Still not raising my voice, I walk farther into the rundown house, masking the distaste I feel at the shabby, soiled furniture in what I assume is the living room right off the foyer. “It’s a little late to play dumb, Maria. It will only serve to anger me further, if that is even possible.”
After a moment of silence, she pleads, “Lee…I didn’t know. I mean, I named her after you because I loved you so much, but I slept with other people after you left me. I never had her tested and—”
“Stop,” I say quietly, barely holding onto my temper. When she ignores my demand, continuing to rattle off excuses, I snap. I reach her in two strides, wrapping my hand around her throat and lifting her off her feet. “You fucking cunt, don’t you dare continue to lie to me! Even if you did screw others after me, which I certainly believe, you knew the moment she was born. Her face is the mirror image of mine! Admit it, that’s why you named her Lia, because you fucking knew!” Her hands are clawing at mine, trying to loosen my grip on her windpipe. In that moment, I would love to be the type of man to crush a woman. For the pain she has caused my daughter, she doesn’t deserve to draw another breath. I could end her right now, and she would never be found. I want to; God, I want to so bad. I tighten my hand in disgust one more time before dropping her to the floor where she crumbles. “You deserve to die for what you’ve done. You allowed and encouraged your twisted fuck of a husband to lay his hands on her, to touch her. You betrayed her as a mother and as a human being at every corner.”
“No,” she croaks out, trying to protest. She doesn’t bother attempting to get to her feet. Instead, she cowers at mine as if seeking mercy.