Page 64 of Collide (The Rhapsody of Heartbeats #1)

He frowns. “Don’t be dramatic.”

“Dramatic?” My voice snaps up, too loud, too broken.

“You think I’m being dramatic? I’m the one whose name is being dragged through every headline.

The one getting death threats. The one getting slut-shamed online.

I’m the one on the verge of potentially being dropped by my label—or worse, sued for everything I’m worth. ”

I deadpan, ice in my veins. “And where were you when my life was falling apart before? Huh?”

His expression hardens, but he says nothing.

“You want to play concerned father now?” I shake my head, tears stinging my eyes, blurring the edges of the room. “Where the hell were you for the last five years? Where were you when she got sick?” The words rip out of me, raw and shaking.

His mouth presses into a thin, bloodless line.

“Where were you when she fucking died ?” My chest heaves, the air too thick to breathe. “You never came to see me. Didn’t even have the decency to attend the funeral. Not once. Not when I was drowning in grief in Australia. Not when I was alone.”

His throat bobs, but still, nothing.

I take a shaky breath, anger and heartbreak closing in, drowning me.

“You didn’t want me,” I whisper. “You made that abundantly clear when you forced Mom to choose between us. And now ? Now that I’m splashed across the tabloids, now you want to play dad of the year?”

“Elena—”

“You don’t get to come here,” I snap, cutting him off, “on your high horse, like you didn’t destroy our lives with your actions.”

The words tear free, years of resentment finally breaking the surface, too hot, too heavy to hold back anymore.

“No.” I step closer, my voice shaking. “What changed? What did I miss in those five years? What happened to the man who didn’t give a damn if I was halfway across the world?”

His eyes flick away for a second, the first crack in his armor.

“Was it Mom?” I whisper, my voice breaking on the word. “Was it her diagnosis? Did the guilt finally eat you alive?”

His jaw tightens. “You don’t understand?—”

“Then help me understand !” I shout, the words ripping from my throat, too jagged to control.

“Because from where I’m standing,” I spit, “you only care about how I make you look. You didn’t care about me when you tossed me aside as a child. You didn’t care when I was grieving. When I was broken. You only care about your name. Your precious dynasty.”

He exhales sharply, chest rising and falling with the effort to hold himself together. “This isn’t about my reputation.”

“Then what is it about?!”

Silence stretches between us, long and suffocating, before he finally speaks.

“It’s about yours ,” he says coldly. “Alexander Westerberg is a liability.”

“Excuse me?” I breathe, disbelief slamming into me.

“He’s careless.” His voice is bitter. “Scandal follows him like a shadow. And now, because of him, you’re dragged into this mess. His mess . Your career, your future, everything you’ve worked for— everything —is on the line because you refuse to see what’s right in front of you.”

I don’t flinch. I won’t give him the satisfaction. “That wasn’t a problem when you were being careless in your marriage, was it?”

His face darkens, a thundercloud rolling across his features. “Don’t start.”

“Oh, what? Too close to home?” My voice sharpens, slicing between us like a blade. Heat flashes across my skin. I feel the control slipping, leaking out through the cracks I can’t seal fast enough.

“Alex may be a lot of things,” I say, my voice rising, “but you know what he’s not? He’s not the man who abandoned me. He’s not the man who discarded me when I needed him most. He didn’t break my heart.”

“Elena—”

I step forward, closing the space between us until there’s barely a breath left. My heart punches against my ribs, the pounding in my ears drowning out the rest of the world.

“He’s the first person to make me feel like I’m worth something,” I choke out. “So don’t you dare stand here and tell me he’s not good enough for me when you never were.”

Mortimer’s eyes burn into mine, a battle cry he’s too proud to voice. His jaw tightens until the muscle jumps.

“You’ve worked too hard to let this man destroy you,” he says, every word hitting like a fist to my gut.

“Don’t talk about him,” I grit out, barely holding the line.

“You think he cares what happens to you?” Mortimer snaps, his voice cracking like a whip through the air. “You think when this gets worse, he won’t run? Men like him, they run, Elena.”

The unspoken fear I’d buried slips right out of his mouth.

A long silence stretches between us.

I wipe at my face, tears falling faster now, his words sit heavy in my chest.

“Maybe Alex is a mess,” I mutter, my voice splintering. “But so am I. And he sees me and he still wants me.”

Unlike you.

I don’t say the last part out loud. I don’t have to.

Mortimer’s face hardens. “He’s going to hurt you.”

“Maybe,” I whisper, my voice breaking. “But you hurt me first.”

His gaze drops, hands twitching uselessly at his sides—but he doesn’t reach for me.

After a long pause, he straightens his jacket, cold and composed again, like he can button up the wreckage he’s leaving behind.

“If you won’t listen to reason”—his tone is stiff, clipped—“there’s nothing more to say.”

A bitter laugh scrapes out of me. I turn toward the window, so I don’t have to watch him walk away.

“There never was.”

The door clicks shut behind him.

I stand there for a long time, my shoulders shaking as I try to breathe.

Because even though I tell myself I’m making the right choice, some part of me still feels like that little girl, waiting for her dad to show up.

But not like this.

And so, like always, I have to be enough for myself.

I turn back into the apartment, the silence pressing in on me like a weight.

The city lights flicker through the window, distant and cold.

I sink to the floor.

And for the first time since this nightmare started, I let myself fall apart. The sob that tears from my throat is ugly, raw—the kind that feels like it’ll rip me open from the inside out.

I bury my face in my hands, my whole body trembling.

What am I even doing?

Holding onto a man who might break me?

Fighting for a career that feels like it’s slipping through my fingers? Clinging to a family that has never really chosen me?

I press my palms harder against my eyes, as if I can hold it all inside if I push hard enough.

But it still pours out.

Feelings I’ve been holding back since the first headline dropped. Since my dad showed up at my door and spoke life to all the fears I had about Alex. Since I realized that I had let Alex all the way in—and that meant he had the power to destroy me.

God, I miss her.

Mom, what would you say to me right now?

The thought hits me like a punch to the chest.

She would know what to do. She would tell me I’m stronger than this.

But all I feel is tired. So damn tired.

I let my body crumple to the floor in a heap, staring up at the ceiling as hot tears streak down my cheeks.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” I whisper into the empty room.

I wish I had her here to say it to. Wish I could crawl into her arms, feel her warmth, smell her perfume, have her tell me that everything will be okay, even if it isn’t.

But she’s gone.

And I’m here.

Alone.