Chapter 7: Richard Makes His Move
She didn't answer it.
We both looked at the phone.
It rang five times and went to voicemail.
Then, ten seconds later, it rang again.
"He'll keep calling," she said quietly.
"I know."
"If I don't answer, he'll assume something went wrong."
"Has something gone wrong?"
She looked at me.
The careful smile was completely gone now.
In its place was something younger, and less certain.
"I don't know," she said.
"Has it?"
I didn't answer that.
"Answer the phone, Chloe."
She hesitated.
Then she picked it up and put it on speaker without asking me.
I wasn't sure if that was trust or a test or something she just needed a witness for.
"Hey, Dad."
"Why didn't you pick up?" Richard's voice was sharp and immediate, the golf-dinner warmth entirely gone.
"I was in the middle of something."
"I need a status update.
The dinner was two weeks ago and you've gone quiet.
What's the situation with the family?"
Chloe looked at me.
I nodded once.
"Dad, I need to tell you something."
"What?"
"Her family.
You read them wrong."
A pause.
"What does that mean?"
"Her father doesn't run a small business.
He runs eleven.
Her mother is a regional director.
They have two properties.
They were dressed that way on move-in day on purpose — to see how we'd react."
The silence that followed was long enough that I counted it.
Four seconds.
Five.
"Say that again."
"They were testing us, Dad.
They knew about the roommate request.
They knew about the questions I asked online.
They came in looking like that deliberately."
Another pause.
When Richard spoke again, his voice had changed.
The sharpness was still there, but underneath it now was something else — a recalculation happening in real time.
"That's actually — " He stopped.
"That's a more interesting family than I thought."
"Dad — "
"This changes the approach, not the goal.
If anything, this is better.
A man who thinks that strategically is someone worth knowing."
"I'm not a chess piece," Chloe said.
"I didn't say you were."
"You implied it."
"Chloe." His voice dropped into the register he used when he wanted her to stop talking.
"Set up another dinner.
Just the fathers this time.
Tell her dad I'd like to meet properly."
"No."
The word came out of her quietly, but it landed hard.
"Excuse me?"
"I said no.
I'm not setting up a meeting.
I'm not giving you a status update.
I'm not — " Her voice caught slightly.
She steadied it.
"I'm not doing this anymore."
"You don't get to decide that."
"I'm eighteen, Dad.
I'm at college.
And I'm telling you I'm done."
"You are living on my — "
"I'll call you later." She ended the call.
Her hand was shaking slightly when she set the phone down.
I didn't say anything for a moment.
"He's not going to let that go," I said finally.
"No." She let out a slow breath.
"He's going to come here."
"When?"
"When he thinks he's ready.
He'll want to meet your father directly.
He'll frame it as something friendly." She looked at the phone.
"He always frames it as something friendly."
I picked up my own phone and texted my dad.
*Chloe told him.
He wants a meeting.
Just the fathers.*
The reply came back in two minutes.
*I know.
He called me an hour ago.*
I stared at the screen.
*He already has your number?*
*He's had it since the week after move-in.
I've been waiting for him to use it.*
I looked up at Chloe.
"My dad already knows," I said.
May you like
She closed her eyes.
"Of course he does."
