Chapter 166
Evelyn's POV
Julian was leaning against the conference table, arms crossed carefully over his bandaged ribs. His expression was calm but his eyes were hard.
"Love makes you pay attention," he continued. "Makes you notice when something's wrong. Makes you willing to take a bullet because losing her would be worse than dying." He looked at Nikolai. "You're right that I couldn't beat you in a straight fight. You've got twenty years more experience and training that makes mine look like amateur hour. But I don't need to beat you. I just need to be willing to die for her. And I've already proven I can do that."
Nikolai's expression didn't change. "Dying for her isn't the same as keeping her alive."
"Maybe not." Julian straightened. Winced slightly at the movement. "But it's a start. And unlike you, I'm not trying to control her under the guise of protection. I'm giving her the choice. Letting her decide how much help she wants and from whom."
"Choice is a luxury," Nikolai said. "Safety is a necessity."
"And you're so good at providing safety." The words were out before I could stop them. Bitter. Cutting. "Is that why my mother ended up dead? Because your version of safety worked so well?"
The silence that followed was deafening. Nikolai's face went white. His hands clenched at his sides.
"That's not fair," he said. His voice was barely above a whisper.
"No," I agreed. "It's not. But neither is you showing up and trying to run my life because you feel guilty about failing to run hers."
Nikolai stared at me. I watched emotions flicker across his face too fast to name. Hurt. Anger. Grief. Something that might have been shame.
"You're right," he said finally. "I failed your mother. Failed to find her. Failed to protect her. Failed in every way that mattered." He straightened. Some of the cold control sliding back into place. "But I won't fail you. Whether you want my help or not, you'll have it. Because that's what fathers do. They protect their children. Even when those children push them away."
"That's what fathers do?" I felt something hot and vicious rise in my chest. "You want to talk about what fathers do? Fathers don't turn their daughters into killers. Fathers don't put them through five years of hell. Fathers don't beat them unconscious and then act surprised when they don't want a relationship."
"I didn't know—"
"You didn't know," I cut him off. "You didn't know I was your daughter. Fine. But you knew I was somebody's daughter. Somebody's child. And you broke me anyway. So don't stand there and tell me about what fathers do when you've spent thirty years doing the exact opposite."
Nikolai looked like I'd physically struck him. His face had gone gray. His hands were shaking.
"You're right," he said again. Quieter this time. "You're absolutely right. I have no right to call myself your father. No right to expect anything from you. But I'm asking anyway. Because I don't know what else to do."
The confession hung in the air. Raw. Honest. Coming from a man who'd probably never admitted helplessness in his life.
I wanted to stay angry. Wanted to hold onto the righteous fury that was so much easier than dealing with the complicated mess of emotions underneath. But looking at him—at this man who'd created me in more ways than one—I saw something I'd never seen before.
Fear.
He was terrified. Terrified of losing me the way he'd lost my mother. Terrified that he'd destroyed any chance of a relationship before he'd even known one was possible. Terrified that trying to protect me would only push me further away.
"I don't know what to do either," I admitted. "I don't know how to be your daughter. I don't know how to separate the man who trained me from the man who loved my mother. I don't know how to trust you."
"Then don't." Nikolai's voice was steady despite the emotion in his eyes. "Don't trust me. Don't forgive me. Don't try to force something that might never exist. Just—" He stopped. Swallowed. "Just let me be present. In whatever capacity you can tolerate. Even if that's only coordinating security from three thousand miles away."
I looked at Julian. He gave me a small nod. Your choice, his expression said. Whatever you decide, I'll support it.
I turned back to Nikolai. "You can coordinate with Julian's team. Provide intelligence. Run background checks. Whatever security enhancements you think are necessary. But you do it remotely. You don't come to the wedding. You don't try to insert yourself into my life. And you definitely don't bribe Julian's contractors or undermine his authority."
Nikolai nodded slowly. "Agreed."
"And if I decide I want to see you—if I decide I'm ready to try to figure out what this relationship could be—I'll contact you. On my timeline. My terms."
"Agreed," he said again.
"Good." I leaned back in the wheelchair. Suddenly exhausted. "Now get me out. I need to rest."
Julian moved immediately, turning my wheelchair toward the door. But Nikolai stayed where he was.
"Evelyn," he said. I paused. Looked back. "Your mother would have handled this better than I am. She always knew the right thing to say. The right way to navigate complicated emotions. I don't have that skill. But I'm trying. And I'll keep trying. For as long as you'll let me."
I didn't know what to say to that. So I just nodded. Let Julian wheel me out of the conference room and back toward the medical wing.
We were halfway down the hallway when Julian spoke.
"That was brutal," he said. "For both of you."
"He deserved it."
"Maybe." Julian's hand found my shoulder. Squeezed gently. "But he's also trying. In his own completely dysfunctional, overbearing, control-freak way, he's trying to be a father."
I closed my eyes. Let him push me back to my room. Let the nurses fuss over me and adjust my IV and check my vitals. Let Julian settle back into the chair beside my bed and take my hand.
And tried not to think about the fact that somewhere in this building, my father was probably already coordinating with Titan's security team. Trying to protect me. Trying to be present. Trying to figure out how to be something other than the man who'd trained me to kill.
Trying.
Maybe Julian was right. Maybe trying was something.
But right now, it didn't feel like enough.