The Princess Stopped Begging for Love, But They Became Desperate to Give Her Everything Chapter 07

The Princess Stopped Begging for Love, But They Became Desperate to Give Her Everything Chapter 07

I froze with the phone in my hand.

In my previous life, Dad had still been perfectly healthy at this point.

“What happened?”

“Acute appendicitis. He had surgery and is recovering in a private suite at the hospital.”

Vince hesitated.

“He hasn’t been in the best mood. Mrs. Caruso and Miss Isabella haven’t been able to get through to him. I

wondered if you might come see him.”

I pressed my lips together.

Appendicitis.

Nothing life-threatening.

And his mood was bad?

Was it because being sick had made him vulnerable enough to suddenly remember the daughter he had

thrown out two years ago?

The thought almost made me laugh.

“I’m extremely busy right now. I probably can’t get away.”

“Miss Caruso…”

Vince’s voice dropped.

“I understand there may be difficult feelings between you. But Don Lorenzo is still your father, and he’s

getting older. After something like this, even if he’d never admit it, I’m sure he’d like to have both of his

daughters nearby.”

Both daughters.

I almost laughed.

He already had Isabella.

Wasn’t she enough?

“I understand,” I said.

I neither agreed nor refused this time.

“I’ll think about it.”

After hanging up, I stared at the flight information on my computer.

I had been looking at tickets back to my adoptive parents’ hometown.

They were gone, but they had left me a small house there.

Now my biological father was sick.

I hated that I was conflicted at all.

In the end, I didn’t book anything that night.

Two days later, for reasons I couldn’t quite explain, I found myself on a plane to New York.

I told no one I was coming.

Even standing outside theprivate suiteat thehospital the Carusos used, I was still asking myself why I’d

come.

Was it obligation?

Or was there still some tiny, ridiculous ember of hope buried inside me?

I took a deep breath and opened the door.

The room was quiet except for the steady beep of the monitor.

Dad was propped against the pillows with his eyes closed.

His face looked pale.

He appeared to be sleeping.

Compared with two years earlier, he seemed more worn down.

There was more gray at his temples.

Mom wasn’t there.

Only a private nurse moved quietly around the room, organizing a few things.

When she saw me, she paused.

Clearly, she had no idea who I was.

I raised a finger to my lips and walked quietly toward the foot of the bed.

Then Dad opened his eyes.

The second he saw me, his eyes lit for the briefest moment.

It vanished almost immediately.

Then the familiar authority and distance slid back into place.

“What are you doing here?”

His voice was hoarse, but the familiar detachment was still there.

For a moment, I wondered if that flicker in his eyes had been my imagination.

Whatever tiny ember had survived inside me went out.

I shouldn’t have come.

“I heard you were sick, so I came to see you.”

My voice was even colder than his, as if I were checking off an obligation.

“Get some rest.”

I turned to leave.

“Stop!”

His voice sharpened with anger.

I stopped but didn’t turn around.

“That’s it? You stay away for two years, finally come back, and you walk in here acting like a stranger?”

His breathing had grown heavier.

He was clearly furious.

The private nurse stood motionless, not daring to interrupt.

I turned back.

“Dad, you were the one who said that if I walked out that door, I shouldn’t come back.”

He faltered.

His face darkened.

“I was angry! I didn’t mean it!”

“I did.”

I looked at him calmly.

“And I think you were right. That house was never really mine.”

“You…”

He pointed at me, his fingers trembling slightly.

“Elena! I’m your father. I brought you into this world, I raised you. Do you hate me that much? Do you hate this family?”