Samantha opened the door to the cottage, her movents stiff and chanical.
It had been a week since Mr. Wallace’s attack at the baby factory — a week since his death, and a week since Xander slipped into a coma. A week that had shattered everything she thought she knew. And yet, ti moved on like nothing had changed.
She stepped inside. The air was heavy with the scent of blood and sothing else — death, maybe. Her eyes imdiately found Bruce on the couch. He was lying motionless, his bandages soaked crimson, the pale stretch of his skin stark against the fabric. If not for the faint rise and fall of his chest, she would have thought he was already gone.
The floor creaked beneath her as she approached, the sound startling Bruce just enough to flutter his eyes open. They t hers— hollow, tired, yet filled with sothing she never thought she’d see in them: sorrow.
After Mr. Wallace’s death, Bruce had sent his last loyal henchman to find her. Even at death’s doorstep, he wanted to see his daughter — sothing she still found hard to believe.
"Why did you call here?" she asked, her voice clipped, void of affection.
Tears welled in her eyes, but she refused to let them fall.
"I thought..." Bruce’s voice was a rasp, thick with pain. "I thought I was doing you a favor... letting you see one last ti before I die. But now I realize... maybe I was wrong."
Samantha said nothing.
She hadn’t told anyone she was coming. The tension from the past week hadn’t eased. No one truly trusted her — and if they knew where she was going, they would’ve followed. But this wasn’t a conversation she wanted witnessed. Whatever Bruce had to say, she needed to hear it—alone.
"I’m sure you hate ," he murmured. "I was never a good father to you—"
"You were never a father at all," she cut in coldly. "If I’d been a stranger on the street, you would’ve sold off or killed without a second thought."
Her words landed like a knife. Bruce flinched.
"All I ever wanted... was to be loved," she said, her voice cracking despite her effort to hold it steady. "You treated like a curse, like I was your greatest mistake. I begged for your affection. I tried to prove I was worth your love. But you—you made feel like I didn’t belong, like I was nothing." She didn’t care if her words ca out sharper than she’d intended it to be.
She’d been holding back, never complaining, but it was ti he knew how he made her feel.
Bruce’s lips trembled, a single tear slipping down his wrinkled cheek.
"I’m sorry," he whispered. "I blad you for her death... your mother. She died giving birth to you, and I was too broken to face it. So I turned that bla on the only person who didn’t deserve it."
Samantha looked away, the words hitting deeper than she expected. After everything, an apology shouldn’t have ant anything—but it did. And that made it worse.
"Sorry doesn’t bring her back. Sorry doesn’t fix the years of pain you caused ," she said bitterly. "And it won’t fix what you made Xander beco. You manipulated him. You made him believe the wrong thing when you knew the truth."
Bruce’s breath hitched.
"Xander is in a coma," she said, voice trembling now. "He’s fighting for his life. Do you know why? Because your best friend—Thomas—shot him in the chest. That’s why he’s in the hospital, and why none of us know if he’s going to wake up."
Bruce’s eyes glazed over. The guilt was imdiate and crushing, but he didn’t have the strength to react. He simply laid there, breath growing shallower.
Breathing felt like a workout while moving seed almost impossible.
"I know it’s too late," he whispered. "But I couldn’t go without telling you... I’m sorry, Samantha. I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but I needed you to hear it. I needed you to know... that I love you."
Tears finally spilled from Samantha’s eyes. For years, she’d fantasized about hearing those words from the man who had given her life but taken everything else away. And now that he said them, it only made the pain sharper. She wanted to forgive him, but was she wrong for finding it hard to do so?
"You might not have been a father to ..." she said softly, sitting beside him. "But you were to Xander. And believe , if he were here, he’d kill you for what you did."
She reached for his hand — rough, cold, calloused — and held it gently in her own.
"It’s too late for hospitals," she murmured. "Even if I took you now... you wouldn’t make it."
Bruce managed a weak smile. "You look just like her... your mother. I was too blind to see it. Too stupid to appreciate the blessing in front of ."
His eyes drifted shut, his chest rising once more, then falling — and stilling. His hand grew heavier in hers.
"I love you so much, my dear..." he whispered one last ti.
And then he was gone. His body relaxed into the couch as his eyes closed shut. He looked like earlier when she’d walked in, eyes closed, sleeping. But this ti, his chest wasn’t rising. There was no sign of life anymore.
Samantha didn’t scream. She didn’t sob. She simply sat there, holding his lifeless hand, her tears falling in silence. She kept caressing his skin as though he could still feel it—as though he might open his eyes again and tell her she was wrong, that he wasn’t leaving her too.
But he didn’t.
This was the first ti she was losing soone so close to her, but she didn’t want to feel it again.
And in that mont, Samantha realized that she had finally been given the thing she’d always wanted—far too late to matter.
Reviews
All reviews (0)