Thousands of questions swam in Angela's head, begging to be asked. For many years, the three of them fell on some sort of routine and blandness. Most of the time, they only did the bare minimum as a family. The spark that they once had while Cynthia was still in the picture was no longer there.

However, Angela could feel that from this day forward, their relationship had changed for the better. Today, honesty was their main course. And she believed it would become a staple.

"Did she love you?" she asked after a few beats of silence.

Charlie took a deep breath, taking the glass of water in his hand instead of asking for a mimosa refill. He was always conscious of his diet, only drinking occasionally. "I believe she did. I know I do.."

Angela took note of the tense her father used. He still loved his ex-wife even after all that happened.

Then he added, "She loved me in her own way. Cynthia's stubborn. If she wanted something, she'd do anything to get it, no matter the consequences. I know she loved you two. Motherhood suited her. I'm sure you remember the times we were all together as a family. She always made sure you were taken care of."

"Then why did she leave? Why did she go back to her family and marry that man?" Oliver asked, his tone with a tinge of anger.

"I found out that Ivan came to our house."

She flinched, and her brother glanced at her. They didn't speak, but they both thought about the same thing. Their father must have found out about it because of her diary. But she kept silent and let him continue.

"I was willing to let go of it. To forget that he came to take her away, and she might have been persuaded. But then she received a phone call, and after that, she packed her bags. I was too angry. I could have stopped her, but God knows there's no stopping her if she really wanted to leave. A week after that, she wrote me a letter. She told me that she did what she thought was best.

"Ivan told her that her father got close to finding out about us—her family. If she didn't return, she was certain that her father would finish us off. Ivan didn't want her father to find out about you either. I guessed he didn't want an heir competition. That was probably enough for him to keep her secret. We divorced, then she married him. For all I know, her father still has no idea that she bore two children with me."

"You never tried to take her back?" Angela's voice was almost a whisper.

Charlie glanced at her, his deep-set eyes looking sad and thoughtful. "Believe me, sweetheart, I wanted to. If I forced myself there, I wouldn't be risking only my life but your mother's, and you and your brother's. She chose to return to save us all from Matvey Novikov's hands. It's not what I want, and it's not hers either, but it had to happen. If I went to her, your grandfather would know about you two. He would have taken you away from me before he'd put a bullet in my head for taking his daughter away."

She swallowed. Angela didn't know what to feel, still trying to absorb all the information her father had just told her. The thought of losing her father too was heartbreaking, and then to be forced into the Bratva after her mother's sacrifice would have been all for naught. This was more complicated than she thought.

"I think… Gael's family does business with them. Did you know that?" she asked.

"No..." Charlie shook his head, blinking as he contemplated. "That, I didn't know. I don't keep tabs on those people. I'm aware they do things normal citizens don't—mostly illegal. But I don't intend to be familiar with what they actually do."

Her bottom lip curled inwardly. Her father was aware of the Mafia, but he didn't know that Gael's family had ties with the Bratva—specifically the Novikovs. She hesitated. "Are you going to tell me to stay away from him now?"

Charlie's jaw tightened, and it took a few beats before he remarked, "If I tell you that, will you actually listen to me?"

Angela's cheeks turned pink. Her father knew her very well; she wasn't really an obedient daughter. Not that there was something she could do now, considering she and Gael were not exactly together because of that stupid marriage arrangement.

Her heart was still reeling when her father took her hand in his. He squeezed it firmly as he said, "Sometimes I forget that you're not a child anymore, but you are still my daughter. I know I've forced you to meet potential husbands before, but I only did that because I didn't want you to waste your life away. Evan was a bad past that you should move on from. Not all men want to hurt you. You have to trust again. If you think Gael deserves that, if you think he can protect you, then I trust your judgment, and I won't stop you. But you have to be careful, princess. Your grandfather is ruthless even to his own blood. You have to be smarter while you stay out of his radar."

One tear fell first and then another before Angela got up from her seat and threw herself into her father's arms. She felt like a little girl again. It was as if her father went away for a long voyage and came back to her. Or maybe she was the one who got lost and found her way back home again. It didn't matter. She hugged him tightly, painfully aware of her father's familiar scent. He smelled of cedar and lavender with a hint of earthy and sweet scent—warm and comfortable.

"I'm so sorry, Dad." She sobbed. "I blamed you for a long time." Angela didn't expect her father to be so forgiving and open. She thought he'd forbid her and possibly lock her up at home to shut her out of the world as a way to protect her. But as he rubbed her back and pressed a kiss on her head, all she felt was his care and support. How could she have misunderstood him all this time? Her chest ached.

She felt another hand on her head, and she looked up to see her brother Oliver; he had placed his arms around them, his eyes misty, yet he was smiling.

It was cheesy and sappy, but she didn't complain. For once, Angela didn't think their brunch was a routine. Her chest became inexplicably lighter. For some reason, she felt proud of herself even though all she did was talk to her father and learn the truth from him. She wished Gael was here too. If he was, would he be proud of her too?

"Dad…" she paused, waiting for her father's wordless response before she confessed, "I've been writing novels." She was already feeling bold—might as well shoot her shot.

"Hmm…" Charlie mused. "Galatea K.S."

Angela startled. "How did you…" She snapped her eyes at her brother, who immediately raised his hands up in surrender, saying, "Don't look at me! I didn't tell him anything."

Putting some distance between them, she stared at her father, feeling more nervous than earlier.

"It doesn't matter how I know."

"Are you…okay with it? You've always been against it."

"I tried to keep you away from it because you developed some relapse in the past. After your mother left, you stopped writing in diaries. When you were ten, you started writing again, and I thought that was good, but then you fell sick for days—just like how you fell ill chasing after your mother in the rain. I found your notebook, and you were trying to recall that day your mother left.

"That happened again a couple of years later. The doctor said you might have harbored guilt over what happened. During your teenage years, you found other interests, and you didn't get sick like before. Then one dinner after your graduation, you told me about Antonina's work and expressed fondness towards writing a book. I dismissed the idea right away…"

"You were afraid I'll fall sick again?" Angela probed.

Charlie sighed. "That… And other things I was afraid to admit. That you are like your mother in more ways than one." He looked at her with a small smile on his face, crow's feet apparent in the corner of his eyes. "Your mother was a writer. She had three novels published before the year she left. I'm not sure if she's still writing now, perhaps under a different pen name. Anyway, your book was already released when I found out about it. As I said, you're stubborn, just like your mother. You get what you want, whatever the consequences are."