"Jesus," Aiden gawked at Rielle. "What did you say to Cleo? I walked past her just now and she could stab your eyeballs for whatever you said."
Rielle snorted. "Nothing, we were just talking."
"Xander still isn't here, huh?" he tossed a small smile her way. "If you made him show emotions—good or bad—don't expect him to come around."
Rielle's mouth tipped up, and she took another sip from her glass. "I'm not expecting him. I'm just hoping he doesn't disappear again. I'm confused here."
Aiden was about to say something when his gaze shifted over her shoulder. "Oh boy," he muttered. "That man heading this way, is he a friend or an enemy?"
Rielle turned calmly. Her heart was already beginning to thud before she even saw his face.
Of course. Her father.
Clement.
He looked older now. Even grayer. But still upright in that way that said he believed the world owed him something. His eyes landed on her, and there was no flicker of recognition. Not even a hint of pause.
He approached like a man who assumed he belonged. To be honest, Rielle was disappointed. She really did mean nothing to them all.
"Good evening," he said, smiling with polite stiffness. "I don't believe we've met. You're with Aiden?"
Rielle extended her hand. "Rielle," she said evenly.
He took it briefly, the shake curt. He seemed already distracted by his own thoughts. There was no familiarity in his touch.
"You have a striking presence," Clement said, glancing once over her with a critical, assessing gaze. "It's rare to see women carry themselves like this anymore. You remind me of someone I once knew—though, not in appearance."
Aiden cleared his throat awkwardly, but Clement continued, oblivious. Aiden studied Rielle.
"My daughter used to frequent events like this," he said, with a tired scoff. "Lina. She was a beautiful girl. But so… lackluster. No ambition. No grit. Could've had the world if she wanted, but she had always been content to play second fiddle."
Rielle's fingers curled tightly around her glass, but her smile didn't shift. 'Was' He introduced her as the past. Without regard or care.
"That's unfortunate," she said. "Sometimes parents miss who their children really are."
Clement chuckled. "That's generous of you. But no, she just didn't have the spark. No backbone. Never pushed herself." He glanced around as if searching for someone more interesting to talk to. "If she'd had even a sliver of what you project, well, maybe things would've been different."
Rielle tilted her head, studying him like he was a dusty relic. "Maybe they already are." She smiled softly.
Clement didn't catch the edge in her voice. He didn't even catch the way Aiden was suddenly watching her, eyes narrowed.
"Well, good to see some new faces around here. Hopefully you're making something of your potential." And with that, he gave a curt nod and walked away, already absorbed in his own self-importance.
"Wait," Rielle said, her voice soft, and smooth. But it landed like a command.
Clement paused, glancing back. "Yes?"
She stepped forward, unhurried. Her heels clicked softly against the marble, and her presence turned sharp and guided.
"You spoke of your daughter," Rielle said, circling just slightly until she was standing in front of him again. "Lina, was it?"
Clement blinked, a little taken aback by the shift in her tone. "Yes. Why?"
"What happened to her?"
His brow lifted. "Why the interest?"
Rielle smiled slowly, but her eyes were ice. "Curiosity. You seemed so certain she lacked substance. I wondered if you ever asked her what she wanted, or if you were too busy being disappointed in her."
His expression tightened. "She had every opportunity. I provided everything. Tutors. Schools. The doors were open and she simply didn't walk through them." He clicked his tongue bitterly.
"Maybe the doors you opened were ones she never asked for," Rielle said quietly. "Did you ever think maybe she wasn't trying to impress you?"
Clement scoffed lightly. "Is this going somewhere?"
"Yes." Her voice dipped, dangerously smooth. "She's not dead, is she?"
Clement blinked. "No. She left." He studied Rielle body language before adding. "Months ago. She vanished without a word. A coward's exit."
Rielle's throat bobbed once, her smile stretching. "Funny. Maybe she thought she was finally being brave." she couldn't stop the words from leaving her mouth.
She felt a hole in her chest, listening to what he really thought of her. It was one thing to suspect what someone thought of you and it was another thing to hear them confirm it.
Clement stared at her now, a flicker of something crawling behind his eyes. It looked like discomfort and confusion tugging at the edge of memory.
Clement's face froze. "What did you say?"
Rielle took a step closer, close enough for him to see it now. The echo of Lina's eyes. And the line of her mouth.
"I said," she breathed, "... nothing."
His jaw parted slightly, and the air between them shifted. "L_"
"If you'd excuse me now, I'm bored," Rielle interrupted him, and walked away from him. He disgusts her.
Silence stretched between her and Aiden for a beat when she stood by his side again.
Aiden let out a slow breath. "Was that…?"
"My father," Rielle murmured, her eyes still following Clement across the room. For some reason, she didn't feel like she needed his validation again.
She was finally free from that.
"He didn't recognize you," Aiden said quietly.
"No," she said, more to herself than to him. "But I didn't expect him to. He never really looked at me when he did know me."
Her voice was calm. Too calm. It was the kind of composure that only came from years of being dismissed, and deciding to become impossible to ignore.
Aiden said nothing. He only slipped her his handkerchief when he noticed her grip on the glass was turning her knuckles white.
Rielle didn't cry, but she accepted the handkerchief and smiled. She now had every reason to take everyone down without feeling sorry.