Chapter 4 - The Artwork My Father Took
My father stopped three steps inside the restaurant.
For the first time in my life, Jason Mitchell looked uncertain.
Not angry.
Not disappointed.
Uncertain.
His eyes moved from me.
To the woman standing beside my table.
Then to the old photograph in my hand.
I watched the color disappear from his face.
“Amber.”
He said my name like a warning.
Not like a father.
The woman beside me stepped back.
Her fear confirmed what I already knew.
She wasn’t lying.
My father knew exactly who she was.
Connor noticed the tension immediately.
He moved slightly closer to me.
Not aggressively.
Protectively.
My father saw it.
His jaw tightened.
“Connor, this is a family matter.”
Connor remained calm.
“I’m responsible for the safety of my guests.”
My father gave a small, cold smile.
“Safety?”
His eyes moved toward the bill.
“Interesting word considering my daughter created this situation herself.”
The old version of me would have lowered my head.
I would have apologized.
I would have tried to explain.
I would have searched his face for approval.
But something had changed.
Maybe it was the letter from Evelyn Carter.
Maybe it was the woman standing beside me.
Maybe it was finally seeing my father afraid.
“No,” I said.
The word surprised everyone.
Especially him.
My father looked at me.
“What did you say?”
I held his gaze.
“I said no.”
The restaurant became strangely quiet.
“I didn’t create this situation.”
My fingers tightened around the photograph.
“You did.”
His expression hardened.
“Amber, you have no idea what you’re talking about.”
The woman beside me whispered:
“That’s exactly what he wants.”
My father turned toward her.
“Victoria, don’t do this.”
Victoria.
The name hit me.
So did the way he said it.
Not like a stranger.
Like someone from his past.
Someone he had tried to erase.
I looked between them.
“Who is she?”
My father didn’t answer.
That was the answer.
I felt something break inside me.
Not because he was hiding something.
Because he had been hiding something for years.
Victoria looked at my father.
“You told her she wasn’t good enough.”
My father’s face changed.
“Stop.”
“You told her her drawings were childish.”
“Stop.”
“You told her the gallery rejected her.”
My heart stopped.
I looked at my father.
“What?”
Silence.
The kind of silence that happens when someone realizes they have already lost.
My voice became quieter.
“Dad.”
He looked away.
“What did she mean?”
My father took a breath.
“Amber, this is complicated.”
“No.”
I shook my head.
“It isn’t.”
I held up the photograph.
“This is simple.”
I looked at the date.
The date I had memorized.
The date he told me my first major opportunity disappeared.
The date he told me I needed to become realistic.
“The gallery didn’t reject me?”
My father didn’t answer.
I already knew.
But I needed to hear it.
From him.
“Did they?”
His silence was louder than any confession.
Victoria looked down.
“I worked for the gallery owner at the time.”
I turned toward her.
“What?”
She swallowed.
“Your exhibition was supposed to lead to a private meeting with Carter Urban Design Group.”
My breathing slowed.
The same company from Evelyn’s letter.
“The owner wanted to recommend you.”
I stared at her.
“But I never got the meeting.”
“No.”
Victoria looked at my father.
“Because someone canceled it.”
My stomach twisted.
“Who?”
Nobody spoke.
Then Connor quietly said:
“Amber…”
I looked at him.
He was staring at my father.
My father looked trapped.
And for the first time, I saw him differently.
Not as the powerful businessman everyone respected.
Not as the man who controlled every room.
As someone who had spent years protecting a secret.
“You canceled it.”
My father’s eyes met mine.
“Amber—”
“You canceled my opportunity.”
His silence confirmed everything.
I stepped back.
The pain was different now.
The restaurant bill hurt.
The humiliation hurt.
But this?
This was something else.
Because my entire life, I had believed I wasn’t talented enough.
I had believed maybe everyone was right.
Maybe I really was chasing something impossible.
But the truth was worse.
Someone had taken away the chance for me to find out.
“Why?”
My father looked exhausted.
“Because I was trying to protect you.”
I almost laughed.
“Protect me?”
“Yes.”
His voice became defensive.
“You were young. You were emotional. You would have thrown away everything for a dream that might not work.”
I stared at him.
“You mean you didn’t trust me.”
“That’s not what I said.”
“That’s exactly what you said.”
The restaurant felt smaller.
My father lowered his voice.
“Amber, you don’t understand how this world works.”
Victoria interrupted.
“No, Jason.”
Everyone looked at her.
“She understands perfectly now.”
My father’s eyes turned cold.
“You don’t get to rewrite history.”
Victoria stepped closer.
“I’m not rewriting anything.”
She reached into her purse.
She pulled out another envelope.
“This is the original acceptance letter.”
My heart stopped.
“Acceptance?”
She nodded.
“The gallery never rejected your collection.”
My hands started shaking.
“They accepted it.”
I stared at the envelope.
The entire world seemed unreal.
My father had told me my work wasn’t wanted.
That nobody cared.
That I wasn’t ready.
But someone had believed in me.
Someone had seen me.
And my father had hidden it.
I looked at him.
“Where is it?”
He didn’t answer.
“Where is my acceptance letter?”
His face changed.
Just slightly.
But enough.
Victoria noticed.
“So you never destroyed it.”
My father said nothing.
Connor looked confused.
“What are you talking about?”
Victoria looked at me.
“Your father kept everything.”
My eyebrows tightened.
“Everything?”
She nodded.
“Every drawing. Every letter. Every review.”
A cold feeling moved through me.
“Why?”
Victoria looked directly at my father.
“Because he didn’t hate your artwork.”
The room went silent.
“He was afraid of it.”
My father’s expression changed.
“Enough.”
“No.”
Victoria’s voice became stronger.
“You were afraid because people saw something in Amber that you couldn’t control.”
I looked at my father.
“What does that mean?”
He didn’t answer.
Because his phone suddenly rang.
He looked at the screen.
His entire face changed.
Not anger.
Fear.
He stepped away from the table.
But not before I saw the name flashing.
A name I had never heard before.
He answered.
“Where did you find that?”
My heart started racing.
Find what?
My father turned away.
His voice became quieter.
“No. She cannot know.”
I froze.
Victoria looked at me.
She had heard it too.
My father turned back.
And when he saw me watching him, he knew.
He knew I had heard everything.
He slowly lowered the phone.
Then he said one sentence.
A sentence that made my entire body go cold.
“Amber, there’s something you need to understand about your artwork.”
He paused.
His eyes moved toward Victoria.
Then toward the envelope.
Then back to me.
“Your drawings were never the only thing I was hiding.”
May you like
My father reached into his jacket.
And pulled out a photograph I had never seen before.
