Chapter 2: Dad Am Back

As Violet peered at her reflection the next morning, she could feel the anxious churn of her stomach. What had she gotten herself into? The surreal conversation with Clyde the day before kept replaying itself in her head. She couldn't shake off that gnawing doubt. This was insane, wasn't it? She was about to lie to a dying man, telling him she was his long-lost daughter. For what? One million dollars a day?

She bit at her lip, tying a loose ponytail with shaking hands. With the rent overdue, the electric bill precariously on the verge of a cutoff, and Tony's cruel rejection fresh within her mind, she knew she didn't have a choice. This was her ticket, the break she'd been waiting for all these years.

By the time Clyde showed up to collect her, the nervousness was worse. His black sedan was ushered to the front of her dingy apartment complex, shining under the morning sun. She paused for a second, then stepped outside and slid into the passenger seat.

"Morning," she muttered, softer than usual.

Clyde turned to her, something flickering in his eyes-concern, or maybe just impatience. "Are you ready for this?" he asked, businesslike.

Violet swallowed hard. "As ready as I'll ever be."

The drive to the hospital proved long amidst their silences, the only thing to be heard being the hum of the engine. Violet couldn't help but notice how Clyde's knuckles whitened around the steering wheel while his jaw tensed up, as if he too fought an invisible battle in his mind. All cool on the outside, it was apparently heavy inside his belly. Why wouldn't it? He was about to deceive his dying father.

It wasn't until they were approaching the private hospital that Clyde finally spoke up. "My father… He's very ill," he started, in a low tone. "The doctors say it's only a matter of time now. His last wish was to see his daughter, the one who vanished more than ten years ago. If he thinks you are her, it will bring him comfort. That is all I ask."

Violet nodded, though inside her heart raged. "I'll do my best."

They pulled into the hospital parking lot, and Clyde led her inside. The building was quiet, almost too quiet, and that sterile smell of antiseptic and bleach filled her senses. She felt a lump start to form in the back of her throat as they approached a private elevator that took them up to the top floor.

By the time they reached his father's suite, Violet's nerves were racing. Outside the door, Clyde stopped and turned to her. "One last thing," he said. "Just… be gentle. He's been through a lot."

Violet nodded again, her hands shaking just a little bit. "I will."

Clyde pushed the door open, and they stepped inside. The room was large, filled with soft light filtering in from the window. Machines beeped rhythmically as they monitored the frail man lying in the bed. Clyde's father, Richard West, was a shadow of the powerful man he must once have been. His skin was pale and sunken, his body thin and fragile beneath the hospital sheets.

Clyde approached the bed and moved slowly, deliberately. Violet hung back, watching the tender way he held his father's hand.

"Father," Clyde said, low, his voice filled with a softness Violet hadn't expected. "I've found her. Violet. She's here."

Richard's eyes fluttered open, his gaze unfocused as he blinked up at his son. "Violet?" he rasped, his voice barely audible.

She came forward, the smile forced onto her face as her heart raced in her chest. "Yes, Dad. I'm here."

Tears brimming his eyes, Richard struggled to sit up, his hand shaking out to reach for her. "My girl. my Violet. I knew you'd come back.

Guilt clawed at Violet's chest. She took his hand in hers, squeezing it light, praying her touch wasn't betraying the storm of emotions inside. "I'm here now," she whispered, her voice threatening to break any moment. "I'm sorry it took so long."

Tears escaped from the old man's eyes as he looked at her, his face softening with a peace that hadn't been there before. "You're here. That's all that matters.

Clyde said nothing. He watched the exchange with a stoic expression, but Violet knew there was relief in his eyes. For the moment, it would seem they were giving Richard something real, something that made all of the deceit feel justified.

Richard held onto Violet's hand for a long while, his hold weak but speaking volumes of unsaid words. "I have been waiting so long," he whispered as his voice shook. "I thought. I'd never see you again.

She swallowed the lump in her throat, trying to rein in her emotions. She couldn't afford to get in too deep. It was a job, no more. But the manner in which Richard looked at her, as if she was the centerpiece of the world, was an added barrier to separating reality from the lie that was her life.

"I'm here now, and I'm not going anywhere," she promised, though the words sounded empty even to her ears.

The next hour found Violet at Richard's bedside, listening as he reminisced about his past, told stories she knew nothing of but nodded to in all the right places. Every now and then, Clyde interjected, easing the conversation along when Violet found herself unsure what to say.

When Richard grew tired, Clyde spoke softly to him that it was time to rest, and they stepped from the room. No sooner than the door closed behind them, Violet exhaled a long-held breath.

"That was… intense," she said, her voice shaking.

Clyde nodded; his face unreadable. "You did well," he said. "Better than I expected."

Violet wasn't sure if that constituted a compliment or not, but she'd take it. "How long do you think… this will go on?" she asked with caution.

Clyde's face seemed to darken an inch. "Until he passes. It won't be long now.