Unwanted, Again.
970 Words
ISLA’S POV ~
He was wearing a perfect suit untouched by the storm outside, a crystal tumbler of scotch in his hand, expression as cool and untouchable as ever.
For a moment, I just stood there.
Water dripped from my dress onto the polished floor. My chest rose and fell too fast, breaths uneven, like if I didn’t hold myself together with sheer force, I’d shatter right there at his feet.
He didn’t move.
He didn’t rush toward me. He didn’t even look surprised.
“Dad—”
My voice cracked before I could continue speaking.
I took one desperate step forward. The little girl in me still, stupidly, pathetically, believing that maybe—just maybe—this time he’d open his arms and say the words I’d spent my whole life starving for.
It’s going to be okay.
For half a moment, I saw something flicker behind his eyes.
Pain? Regret? Helplessness?
It vanished as quickly as it came.
He straightened slightly, his face smoothing into that familiar, impenetrable mask. The one that had raised me more than he ever did.
“Congratulations on graduating, Isla,” he said evenly, as though I weren’t standing there soaked, shaking, and unraveling. “You did well.”
A hollow sound bubbled up in my chest—something between a laugh and a sob.
That was it?
That was all I got?
Not a “what happened”. Not a “why are you crying?” or even a “I’m sorry for not being with you.”
Just… you did well.
I swallowed hard, throat burning. “Is that all you have to say?”
His gaze glanced over me then, quick, assessing. Taking in the wet hair plastered to my skin, the smudged mascara, the trembling hands I couldn’t quite still.
And still… nothing.
“Your graduation gift,” he continued, setting the glass down with a soft, deliberate clink.
He nodded toward an envelope resting neatly on the center table, like it had been placed there hours ago, waiting.
“You’re leaving tonight. Caspian Volkov is expecting you.”
Caspian.
That name didn’t just land—it detonated.
My father’s best friend since before I was born.
The man who’d taught me to shoot when I was fourteen, who let me drive his vintage car at sixteen, whose low, warm laugh and the way he’d ruffle my hair and call me his “little Fox” had made my stomach flip in ways I didn’t understand back then.
Ways I still didn’t want to examine too closely.
I crossed the room before I even realized I was moving, snatching the envelope with shaking hands. “You disappeared for a whole year,” I said, my voice trembling despite my best efforts. “No calls. No visits. Nothing.”
I looked up at him. Same composed stance. Same unreadable eyes.
Like I was just another business arrangement.
“And now you think you can just ship me off like unwanted luggage?” My grip tightened on the ticket. “No. It doesn’t work that way. I have interviews … a life i’ve built without you.”
His expression didn’t change.
“Do not argue, Isla. The car is already waiting.” His gaze shifted briefly to his million dollar watch. “The flight leaves in ninety minutes.”
Something inside me snapped.
A sharp, splintering crack that echoed through my chest.
Rage and hurt boiled over. “If you don’t want a daughter anymore, just disown me and be done with it! Stop making excuses to get rid of me.”
That hit.
I saw it.
His hands tightened at his sides. A small, almost imperceptible break in the armor.
“You don’t understand—”
“Then explain!” I shouted, the word tearing out of me. “For once in your life, just explain!”
My vision blurred, but I didn’t look away.
“Tell me why you’ve been such a shitty father,” I whispered, my voice breaking on the last word. “Tell me why you never wanted me.”
For one raw second, his resolve fractured. His shoulders tensed, jaw working like the words were fighting to escape. But Richard Prescott didn’t break. He never did.
“You’re not safe here anymore… that’s why you’ll be leaving to Moscow, Isla. You don’t need to pack anything. Caspian would handle everything once you arrive.” He turned towards his office and then paused mid-stride. His voice dropped, almost too soft to hear. “I’m sorry, Isla. I hope you can forgive me one day.”
My laugh was sharp and hollow, cutting through the silence he left behind.
“Over my dead body.”
~~
The flight from heartbreak to something far more dangerous took exactly seven hours… and one blocked number.
I told myself this was the completely logical thing to do. That this wasn’t me running.
Dad had said it wouldn’t be long. Just a few weeks, maybe. Until whatever danger he refused to explain passed.
And staying? Staying meant suffocating.
Being in the same city as Tyler suddenly felt like being poisoned every 60 seconds; every corner reminded me of his betrayal and the way Daisy moaned against him. So I agreed.
Besides… I wanted to see Caspian.
I hated admitting it, even inside my own head.
Caspian Volkov.
Even thinking his name sent something strange curling low in my stomach. Tight. Unfamiliar. Dangerous.
I pressed my thighs together subtly, annoyed at myself.
This was ridiculous.
He was my father’s best friend.
A man who had known me since I was a child.
A man who still called me trouble like I hadn’t outgrown pigtails and scraped knees.
So why—
Why did my pulse keep slipping every time I pictured him?
- Writer
