PART 2:

You’re not too much or too difficult or too anything. Your dad is failing you, and that’s on him, not you. Lily felt tears prick her eyes. She blinked them back furiously. “You don’t know him. He’s just he’s been through a lot. Losing my mom and I lost my hearing in the same accident. And and you lost your mom, too.” Clara interrupted, her signs fierce.

“And you lost your hearing. And you’re 16 years old, and you still show up to these events in a pretty dress, smiling for the cameras, making his life easier. You’ve been through just as much and you’re still trying.” What’s his excuse? The truth of it hit Lily like a physical blow. She opened her mouth, closed it, then signed, “I’ve never had anyone say that before.

” “Well, someone should have.” Clara’s expression softened. “Look, I don’t know your whole situation, but I know what it’s like to feel invisible, and I know you deserve better than standing in corners at your own father’s events.” Before Lily could respond, a shadow fell across their table. She looked up to find her father standing there, his expression unreadable.

Ethan Callaway looked at Clara, then at his daughter, then back at Clara. When he spoke, his voice was smooth, controlled, the same voice he used in boardrooms and television interviews. I don’t believe we’ve met, Ethan Callaway. He extended his hand to Clara, completely ignoring Lily. Clara stared at his outstretched hand for a long moment.

Then deliberately, she turned to Lily and signed. “Does your father know I’m an interpreter, or does he think I’m just random event staff?” Lily’s eyes went wide. “Clara, don’t.” “I’m Clara Bennett,” Clare assigned to Lily, not taking Ethan’s hand. “Tell your father I’m the interpreter hired for tonight’s keynote.

I was keeping his daughter company since she was standing alone. The subtext was clear since you weren’t.” Ethan’s hand dropped. His smile never wavered, but something flickered behind his eyes. Confusion, maybe, or annoyance. I see. Well, thank you for that, Lily. We need you for some photos with the literacy program directors.

They’re setting up by the silent auction. He was talking about her, not to her. His eyes remained fixed on Clara. Of course, Lily signed, her movements jerky with suppressed emotion. She stood smoothing her dress with shaking hands. Lily, Clara signed. You don’t have to. I do. Lily’s signs were bitter. That’s the deal. I show up. I smile.

I prove he’s a good father. She walked away without looking back, following her father across the ballroom. Ethan’s hand hovered near her shoulder blade, not quite touching, guiding her like one might guide a piece of valuable furniture through a crowded room. Clara watched them go, her jaw clenched so tight, her teeth achd.

The photo session was everything Lily had learned to expect. Her father positioned her just so, his hand on her shoulder for the camera, his smile warm and paternal. The literacy program directors couped about how beautiful she looked, speaking around her to her father, asking him questions about her education, her interests, her future.

As if she weren’t standing right there, Lily kept her smile fixed. She’d learned from the best. After all, her father had built an empire on the strength of his composure, his ability to present the perfect image, regardless of what chaos churned beneath. Like father, like daughter. When the photographers finally lowered their cameras, one of the program directors, a thin woman with aggressive highlights, turned to Ethan.

She’s just so brave dealing with her disability with such grace. You must be so proud. Lily felt her smile calcify, brave, as if existing while deaf required courage, as if she were climbing Everest instead of just trying to get through another one of her father’s carefully orchestrated events. Ethan’s response was smooth as always.

Lily’s an inspiration. She never lets anything hold her back. Lily’s hands moved before she could stop them. Tell them I’m standing right here. Tell them they can talk to me directly. But Ethan wasn’t looking at her. He was already turning toward the next donor, the next conversation, the next opportunity to network.

Lily’s signs fell into empty air. She stood there for a moment, hands still raised, feeling like the loneliest person in a room full of hundreds. Then she dropped her hands and turned away. She found herself drifting toward the terrace, pushing through the French doors into the cool Seattle night. The city sprawled below, glittering and indifferent.

Behind her, the gala continued. Laughter and music and the clink of champagne glasses. A world that didn’t need her to function. Running away from your own party. Lily spun. Clara stood in the doorway, backlit by the golden glow of the ballroom, still holding a plate of food. I needed air, Lily signed.

Mind if I join you? Clara didn’t wait for an answer, stepping onto the terrace and letting the door swing shut behind her. The sounds of the gala muffled into a distant hum. I brought you dessert. Figured you might need chocolate after that photo op. Lily accepted the small plate. Some kind of elaborate moose situation. And signed one-handed. You saw that? Hard to miss.

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