Chapter 193

Chapter 193
Claire's POV

I shielded my eyes against the bright sun as Daniel and I walked up the stone pathway to my father's French villa. The Mediterranean heat pressed against my skin, making me wish I'd worn something lighter than the silk blouse and linen pants I'd chosen for this visit.

"Are you sure you're ready for this?" Daniel asked quietly, his hand resting protectively against my lower back.

I nodded, though my stomach tightened with nervous energy. "As ready as I'll ever be."

We'd been married for just over a month now, our secret ceremony at Seattle City Hall still unknown to my family. The platinum band hung on a chain beneath my blouse, hidden from view but a constant reminder of our commitment.

"There he is," I whispered, spotting my father's wheelchair on the terrace.

My father sat regally despite his confined position, looking out over the expansive gardens that stretched before his summer residence. His shoulders appeared thinner under his linen shirt, but his posture remained impeccable.

"Father," I called as we approached. "We're here."

He turned his head slowly, his piercing eyes assessing us both. "You're late," he said, though we were exactly on time.

"Traffic from Nice was heavier than expected," I lied smoothly, pressing a kiss to his papery cheek.

"Daniel. Long time no see," my father said, extending a hand that trembled slightly.

Daniel stepped forward, his handshake firm but respectful. "It's an honor to meet you, sir."

My father grunted, already losing interest. "Come, I want to show you something. Claire, push me."

I moved behind his wheelchair as Chloe quietly excused herself. Daniel followed us down the stone path into the gardens.

"Look there," my father said, pointing to a small red-leafed tree planted in a specially designed area. "Japanese maple. The 'Geisha' variety. Do you know how long I waited for this specific tree?"

"How long?" I asked, knowing he wanted me to.

"Two months and seventeen days," he replied with obvious pride. "The first four died in transit. This one survived."

I studied the delicate tree with its bright red leaves. It looked fragile, almost out of place among the sturdier Mediterranean plants surrounding it.

"You couldn't find it locally?" Daniel asked.

My father's eyes narrowed. "Why settle for local when you can have the best? This specimen came directly from a master gardener in Kyoto."

"It's beautiful," I said quickly, noticing my father's irritation.

His expression softened slightly. "The whole back garden has been redone. Push me around, I'll show you."

For the next hour, we followed my father through his garden kingdom. He pointed out ancient olive trees, rare flowering bushes, and specially designed irrigation systems. Everything precisely arranged, controlled, conquered. That was my father's way—even nature had to bend to his will.

"These trees were transported from Tuscany," he explained, gesturing to a row of cypress trees. "Three hundred years old. Cost a fortune, but worth every penny."

I watched him as he spoke, noting the new lines etching his face, the slight yellow tinge to his skin. Despite his enthusiasm, his body was betraying him. William Stanton, who had always seemed immortal, was fading before my eyes.

"Should we head inside?" I suggested, feeling the sweat trickle down my back. "It's getting hot."

He frowned but nodded, allowing me to wheel him back toward the house. I caught Daniel's eye over my father's head, and he gave me a small, encouraging smile.

Inside the cool villa, I pushed my father to his study where several bonsai trees lined the windowsill.

"I've taken up pruning," he said, picking up tiny scissors. "Keeps my hands busy."

Daniel excused himself to use the bathroom, and my father waited until the door closed behind him.

"How's Thomas?" he asked, his tone casual but his eyes sharp.

"Fine," I answered. "He's in Martha's Vineyard for the summer with Riley."

"Has he been giving you trouble at the board meetings?"

I shook my head. "No, surprisingly things have been smooth."

My father snorted. "Don't trust it. Thomas always plays the long game." He carefully trimmed a tiny branch from one of his bonsai trees. "A man who can't control his own wife certainly won't hesitate to undermine his sister."

"Riley's been behaving herself," I said, though the lie tasted bitter.

"I saw the pictures," my father said, not looking up from his pruning. "Prancing around at charity events draped in diamonds while I'm supposedly on my deathbed."

I shifted uncomfortably. "The board expects some representation at important functions."

"And Thomas allows it," my father continued as if I hadn't spoken. "He's too much like his mother. Amy was emotional too, led by her heart." His voice softened unexpectedly. "Hannah too. Both of them so like Amy."

I stayed silent, recognizing the rare vulnerability in my father's tone.

"It's my fault," he said finally, so quietly I almost missed it. "I wronged her. Amy."

I watched his face, seeing something I rarely witnessed there—regret.

Before I could answer, Daniel returned, and my father's expression immediately shuttered.

"We were discussing Hannah," my father said smoothly, though we hadn't been. "What she did was unforgivable, but she's not evil. Just foolish and stupid."

I nodded, thinking about my half-sister who'd fled to Vietnam after embezzling company funds.

"Let her stay in Vietnam for now," my father continued. "It's better for everyone."

"Okay," I agreed simply, feeling Daniel's questioning gaze but unable to meet his eyes.

Some family wounds were too deep to explain, even to my husband. Especially to my husband.