Chapter 6
### Part 6
I went to Daniel’s apartment on Sunday morning.
I did not call first because if I called, he would ask why, and I did not trust my voice to answer without cracking. His building was in Capitol Hill, all glass balconies and young people carrying paper coffee cups. I parked on the street and sat for a minute with both hands on the steering wheel.
A father spends years trying not to break his child’s heart.
Then one day, the kindest thing left is to do it cleanly.
Daniel opened the door in sweatpants, hair messy, one sock on, one sock missing.
“Dad?”
“I need an hour.”
His face changed. “Are you okay?”
“No. But I will be.”
He stepped aside.
His apartment smelled like coffee and laundry detergent. There were two mugs in the sink. Marissa’s scarf hung over the back of a chair, pale blue, soft-looking, expensive. Seeing it there made me feel strangely angry, as if the fabric itself had lied to him.
Daniel made coffee while I sat at his small kitchen table.
“Did something happen last night?” he asked. “Marissa said you were tired, but that was weird. Carol texted me twice.”
“I know.”
“Did she say something to you?”
I looked at him.
He went very still.
“Yes,” I said.
I told him the whole thing.
Not quickly. Not cruelly. I gave him every sentence in order. The property. The private loan. The deadline. The accusation she threatened to make. The way she said he would believe her because he loved her.
At first, Daniel looked offended on her behalf. I expected that. Love does not leave a room just because facts walk in.
“Dad,” he said, “there has to be some misunderstanding.”
“There isn’t.”
“Marissa wouldn’t do that.”
“I know you believe that.”
“No, you don’t understand. She’s had people use her. She’s guarded. Sometimes she talks tough when she feels cornered.”
“She was not cornered on my patio.”
He pushed his chair back and stood, running both hands through his hair. He walked to the window, then back to the counter. The city moved below us like nothing important was happening.
“Why would she need money from you?” he asked.
That question cracked the door.
So I opened it.
I showed him Linda’s report. Not all at once. I had printed the documents and placed them in a plain folder because I knew screens make things feel temporary. Paper has weight. Paper stays on the table when you look away.
He read the California judgment first.
“That could be old,” he said.
“It is old.”
He read the Nevada complaint.
“This says allegations.”
“It does.”
He read the brand contract notes, the follower audit, the enrollment record.
His face shifted slowly, not from love to hate, but from certainty to something lonelier.
“She told me she finished UCLA.”
“I know.”
“She said the Nevada thing was a jealous ex-business partner.”
“Maybe part of it was.”
“Don’t do that,” he snapped.
I let him.
The anger needed somewhere to go before it could become grief.
Finally, I slid the USB drive across the table.
“What’s this?”
“February thirteenth. My kitchen. The day she claims I grabbed her and said things.”
He stared at it.
“You recorded her?”
“I record contractor calls in the kitchen sometimes. The device was running. I forgot until yesterday.”
“That’s convenient.”
“It is.”
His voice broke. “Dad, I don’t know what to do with this.”
“Listen.”
He plugged it into his laptop.
For twenty-three minutes, we sat in his apartment while the past played out in small sounds. My cabinet hinge. My kettle. Marissa’s polite voice. My ordinary questions. The door opening. The door closing.
When it ended, Daniel did not move.
The coffee between us had gone cold.
“Play it again,” he said.
So I did.
Halfway through the second time, he covered his face.
I looked away because a grown man deserves privacy even when he is your son.
After a long while, he said, “Did she love me at all?”
I had known that question was coming, and still it hurt worse than I expected.
“I don’t know,” I said.
He lowered his hands. His eyes were red.
“That’s not an answer.”
“It’s the only honest one.”
The room went quiet except for traffic hissing on wet pavement below.
Then Daniel looked toward the scarf on the chair.
“What now?” he asked.
May you like
I reached for the folder.
“Now,” I said, “we invite her to dinner.”
