Chapter 9
989words
I simply became completely frozen.
The truth behind that "betrayal of kindness" was like the final snowstorm, completely burying the last bit of warmth remaining in my heart.
Both love and hate require strength.
And I had no strength left. I had become a bystander, coldly watching this absurd drama outside my window that belonged solely to Silas Lancaster.
He still came every day.
Kneeling in the snow had lost its meaning; he simply stood there.
From dawn until dusk.
He began to send things.
He probably thought I had drawn the curtains because I was "cold."
He started having things left at the entrance of the Sanatorium.
Expensive, hand-woven cashmere blankets. Box after box of what was supposedly the finest hot chocolate in all of Switzerland. Hand warmers.
And... fluffy things meant to heal the heart.
Enormous teddy bears. Soft Angora rabbit plush toys.
He thought I was that little girl who needed to be "comforted."
I had Oliver throw away all those things, or donate them.
"Fiona," Oliver looked at me with concern, "you should at least... scold him. Shutting yourself away like this..."
"I don't have the strength, Oliver." I said calmly, "And I don't hate him anymore."
Hatred is such a luxurious emotion.
I just don't want to see him again.
Yet he insists on performing right before my eyes.
Until a week later, when another actor joined this "one-man show."
That afternoon, I was reading when sharp, hysterical shouting penetrated the double-glazed windows and reached my ears.
A yellow taxi stopped outside the iron gate.
Savannah Green rushed out.
She looked terrible. She was no longer that glamorous "female confidante." She wore a cheap down jacket, her hair dry and yellowing.
She had clearly been "liquidated" by Silas.
"Silas!" she screamed, rushing toward the man standing in the snow, "Are you insane?! You destroyed everything I had for this woman!"
Silas didn't even look back at her. He continued to stare at my window.
Savannah was infuriated by his complete disregard.
She rushed forward, trying to pull at Silas's arm: "Come with me! How long are you going to stand here being punished? Do you think she will forgive you? She won't!
She..."
"Get out."
Silas finally spoke.
It wasn't a question, nor was it a negotiation. It was a cold, emotionless command.
"What did you say?" Savannah couldn't believe her ears.
Silas finally turned around, his blue eyes, bloodshot from illness and guilt, coldly staring at Savannah.
"I said, get out."
"Silas Lancaster! How dare you speak to me like this? Have you forgotten how you once..."
"Slap——!"
A crisp, loud slap.
Silas, right in front of me, in front of all the curious onlookers at the Sanatorium, slapped Savannah hard across the face.
He used all his strength.
Savanna was struck and fell into the slush, with half of her face quickly swelling and turning red.
"You... you hit me?" She covered her face, completely dumbfounded.
"Your 'amnesia' act wasn't bad." Silas looked down at her, his voice full of disgust. "You bribed Dr. Evans, fabricated car
accident evidence, piece by piece. Did you think I wouldn't find out?"
"I..." A flash of panic crossed Savanna's eyes.
"I just didn't have time to deal with you." Silas interrupted her. "Savanna, your good days are over. Get out of our sight, or I'll show you
what it really means to be 'utterly disgraced'."
Savanna stared at him.
She finally understood that this man wasn't joking.
Savanna's "Crematorium" was burned to ashes by my "Crematorium."
She scrambled up from the snow in a sorry state, shot a venomous glare at my window, and finally tumbled back into the taxi.
The car drove away.
The world became quiet again.
Silas stood still, his chest heaving violently from his recent rage and excitement.
He had finished it all.
Then, he raised his head and looked at me.
He was like a hunting dog that had won a fight and was eager to seek approval from its master. He thought that by "settling scores" with the female supporting character, he could offset one ten-thousandth of his sins.
He thought I would feel "vindicated" because of this.
I looked at him.
I said nothing.
I just felt... it was too noisy.
In front of him, I slowly closed my eyes.
I didn't even have the strength to look at him for one more second.
I heard a suppressed, wounded growl coming from outside the window.
All his "performances," all his "retribution," were worthless in front of my frozen ashes.
…………
After that, Silas stopped sending those "fluffy" gifts.
But he still came every day.
He just stood there.
His "repentance" became a part of my life, as punctual as the bells of the sanatorium, and just as... meaningless.
Several more days passed.
That day, the weather cleared up again.
The sunshine was nice. Very similar to the day when Silas first stood with an IV drip as punishment.
I sat by the window, Oliver was reading poetry to me.
Habitually, I glanced outside the window.
Silas Lancaster was still standing in the same old spot.
But he wasn't alone.
Beside him stood another person.
A man. Much older than Silas, he wore a slightly oversized suit and stood in the snow, appearing awkward and uneasy.
His hair was graying, his posture stooped, his face weathered.
He looked bewildered, confused, and even somewhat afraid.
At Silas's signal, he slowly raised his head.
He looked toward my window.
My breathing, in that moment, stopped.
The book in my hand slipped to the floor.
"Fiona?" Oliver looked at me with concern.
I ignored him.
I stared fixedly at the man outside the window.
The man I had hated and resented...
The one I thought had long rotted in prison...
That man.
Is my father.
Robert Windsor.
