At a loss, the philanthropist tries to regain his footing. The darkness within widens consuming all in its path.
Loss of his grip causes him to slip, a slight miscalculation with dire repercussions.
The socialite holds on despite the widening sea between her and the philanthropist she once thought she knew. In an instant all might be lost
"Do you know what scares me about your relationship with Desniah?"
I wasn’t sure there was a question in there, or if I was about to be lectured to.
I shrugged, trying to detach from his attempts to provoke anger in me without going into the cold place where he claimed my eyes went vacant.
"I know you believe I disapprove of Desniah because of her age, her father's politics, her hospitalisation or any number of Desniah reasons. It isn't her. It has never been her. It's you.” He pointed at me with his index finger sharply. “I don't like you when you’re with her. You're obsessed, out of balance, fixated, and downright chaotic."
I couldn't deny it. There was little to say about it that wouldn’t further prove my guilt.
"I fear the way you look at her and that this will end very badly for you both." He rubbed his forehead.
Because it, had to end at some point. No way could it be that we would work it out, be good for each other. That she would provide me with what I needed and I would do the same. The truth my father didn’t understand was that the bad ending was mine alone to live, not hers. I would not allow my needs to come before her.
My patience was limited so I decided it best to skip anymore of my father's accusations and go straight to the truth.