Wealthy entrepreneur Alexander willfully dismisses his biological daughter Clara’s attempts to strike up a relationship with him. He changes his tune when she saves the life of a potential investor in his business and, in so doing, exposes his true, deplorable character in public. Clara stood before the towering, ornate door of the sprawling mansion, her heart pounding like a drum.
She raised her hand, hesitating for a moment before letting it fall against the wood with a series of firm knocks. A man, about forty, opened the door. “Yes?” he asked, sounding unwelcoming.
“Alexander? I’m Clara,” Clara replied nervously. “Your daughter.”
Alexander looked at her with disbelief.
“My daughter? I don’t have a daughter.” “My mom told me you’re my dad. She’s gone now, and I… wanted to meet you.” “And you just believed her?
Came here expecting what? Open arms? A happy reunion?”
“I just want some answers.
Don’t you want to know about my mom?”
Alexander laughed mockingly. “People don’t just show up and become family!” At that point, Clara showed him an old photo of her mom, and Alexander’s tough look softened for a moment. “Linda,” he said quietly.
“Yes, Linda, my mom. Do you remember her? Clara asked.
Alexander’s tone turned harsh again. “Remember her? Yes, of course.
But let’s not romanticize the past. Your mother was a hippie layabout, a mistake, a regrettable chapter in my life.”
Clara felt a pang of hurt, not just for herself but for the memory of her mother. “A mistake?
Is that all she was to you? And what does that make me?”
“Yes, she was a mistake,” Alexander said coldly. “You’re just a consequence of a mistake and hence another mistake.
There’s nothing for you here.” “Can’t we just talk, get to know each other?” she asked hopefully. “No chance. I don’t want another daughter.
It’s best you leave,” Alexander said firmly. Clara knew she was helpless at this point. This man would never accept her.
Disheartened, she turned to leave, when a soft voice called out from behind. A young woman, perhaps in her late twenties, stood at the threshold of an adjacent room, having caught the tail end of their conversation. “Dad, who was that?” “Nobody, just a mistake,” Alexander replied coldly.
The story doesn’t end here –
it continues on the next page.
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