Chapter 195

Chapter 195
Claire's POV

I stared at Chloe, her question hanging in the air between us. "Some people are worth the sacrifice. Don't you agree?"

I arranged the last fruit tart on the silver serving platter, buying time while I considered her words. The kitchen's bright lights highlighted the sincerity in her young face.

"I suppose that depends on what you're sacrificing," I finally answered.

Chloe smiled, a touch of wisdom beyond her years in her expression. "Your father has taught me that nothing valuable comes without giving something up."

We carried the desserts into the dining room where Father and Daniel remained hunched over their chessboard. Father looked frail tonight, his skin pale and slightly yellow under the warm lighting. Despite the mild evening, a blanket covered his legs in the wheelchair. His fingers trembled slightly as he moved a knight across the board.

"William, you promised only one game," Chloe gently scolded, setting down the tray and moving to his side. "You need your rest."

"I'm fine," Father waved her off, not taking his eyes from the board. "Daniel plays a decent game. I need to concentrate."

I caught Daniel glancing up at me, silently asking if he should let my father win. I gave a slight shake of my head. Nothing would insult Father more than being coddled.

After everyone had gone to bed, Chloe found me on the terrace. The Mediterranean breeze carried the scent of lavender from the garden below.

"He's finally asleep," she said, joining me at the stone railing.

"Thank you for taking care of him."

She nodded, staring out at the moonlit landscape. "Can I be honest with you, Claire?"

"Of course."

"William can't..." she hesitated, cheeks flushing. "His health doesn't allow him to satisfy certain needs anymore. But I'm not complaining." She turned to face me directly. "Meeting someone like William - I already consider myself lucky."

"What exactly do you want from me, Chloe?" I kept my voice neutral.

"Nothing you haven't offered." Her gaze didn't waver. "The only thing I really have going for me is my youth, but everyone has that at some point."

I studied her, searching for manipulation but finding what seemed like genuine resignation. "You'll get what you deserve, Chloe. As long as you keep your promises, I'll keep mine."

Something flickered across her face - calculation, perhaps - but I maintained my professional smile. We understood each other perfectly.

"I hope so," she said softly. "For both our sakes."

The next morning, I found Father in his study with another guest, attempting another chess match. He looked exhausted, skin waxy and eyes sunken, but stubbornly determined to finish the game.

"Father," I entered with practiced grace. "You should rest now. It's time for your medication."

"I'm fine," he insisted, though his hand visibly trembled as he reached for a bishop.

I smiled apologetically at his visitor. "You'll have to excuse us. Father needs his rest."

The man nodded with understanding as I took control of Father's wheelchair, gently but firmly steering him from the room.

"You didn't need to do that," Father muttered once we were alone in the hallway. "I was winning."

"You were exhausting yourself," I corrected, guiding him toward his bedroom.

Once inside, I helped him into bed despite his weak protests. As I pulled the blanket over him, he suddenly caught my wrist.

"Daniel," he said, his eyes sharper than they'd been all day. "He's a good man."

The comment surprised me. "Yes, he is."

Father's gaze held a knowing glint. "Claire. Always knew you were most like me."

I smoothed his blankets, avoiding his piercing stare. "What do you mean?"

"Dating is one thing, marriage is another, Claire. You need to think carefully." His voice grew serious despite its weakness. "Consider what you're doing."

"Everything is under control," I assured him gently.

Father nodded, seeming satisfied. He closed his eyes, and I thought he'd drifted off when he spoke again, so softly I almost missed it. "He's too honest for our world, Claire."

I found Daniel waiting in the corridor, leaning against the wall. Sunlight filtered through the windows, casting golden light across his troubled features.

"Everything okay?" he asked.

"He's just tired," I moved closer, drawn to his solid presence.

Daniel frowned slightly. "I feel like I'm being tested with all these chess games and conversations. Am I taking this too seriously?"

I reached for his hand, feeling the roughness of his palm against mine. "You should take it seriously."

"Should I?" Uncertainty clouded his eyes.

I looked up at him, suddenly sure. "Yes. You absolutely should."

The following day, Father insisted on playing chess with Daniel again on the sun-drenched terrace. I watched from nearby as Father narrowly won, a satisfied smile crossing his tired face. At lunch, he questioned Daniel about his plans, nodding with what seemed like approval when Daniel mentioned continuing his education at the military academy.

Two days later, we prepared to leave. Chloe made a hearty breakfast for our return trip to Seattle. I had planned to bring Daniel back at Christmas, but Father seemed content with what he'd learned.

"Take care of yourself," I said, hugging Father goodbye, feeling the alarming thinness of his frame.

"Always do," he replied with characteristic stubbornness.

Eleven days later, I was chairing a board meeting when Emily slipped into the room and handed me a note. I excused myself and stepped outside to take the call.

"Chloe?" I answered, keeping my voice low in the empty hallway.

"Claire," her voice cracked. "William... he's gone."

My stomach dropped. Despite expecting this call for months, the reality hit like a physical blow. "When?"

"Just now. In his sleep." She was crying openly. "What should I do?"

I took a deep breath, forcing my mind to work through the shock. "Secure the body. I'll arrange for our private doctor to confirm and handle the paperwork."

"Claire, I—"

"Thank you for calling, Chloe. I'll be on the next flight."

I hung up and stood motionless for a moment, one hand pressed against the wall to steady myself. Then I straightened my spine, smoothed my hair, and walked back into the boardroom.

Twenty pairs of eyes turned to me, conversations dying as they noted my expression.

"Ladies and gentlemen," I said, my voice steady despite the hollowness spreading through my chest. "I've just received word that my father, William Stanton, has passed away. This meeting is adjourned until tomorrow morning."

As murmurs of shock and sympathy filled the room, I remained standing tall, my posture perfect. The weight of the company—my company now—settled firmly on my shoulders.