But tonight, she was like a different person.
I even had the absurd thought that something had possessed her.
I took her hand, keeping my voice as low as I could, terrified of setting her off.
"Sweetheart, what's gotten into you tonight?"
"Something's clearly wrong here. Dad's card is already empty—we really can't keep playing."
Before I could finish, she broke down.
"Dad!"
She grabbed my sleeve so hard her knuckles turned white.
"You have to keep playing tonight!"
It didn't sound like a plea.
It sounded like an order.
Our argument quickly drew everyone's attention.
Arnold's eyes narrowed, his gaze darting around as the gears turned.
"Ramona, your dad's got nothing left. If he keeps winning, what's he even going to put up?"
My daughter slowly raised her head and looked at them.
Her voice was steady.
So steady it sent a chill down my spine.
"Who says my dad has nothing left?"
"Doesn't he still have the Southside land project?"
My mind went blank—a sharp, ringing buzz behind my eyes.
The Southside land project was the cornerstone deal I'd been personally spearheading at the company. All the groundwork was already in place. If it went through, we weren't just talking about a seven-figure commission—my entire position would move up the ladder.
More importantly, I had never breathed a single word about it at home.
How did my daughter know?
Arnold's eyes lit up like a predator catching a scent.
"The Southside land project? Now that's a prime cut!"
"Brother-in-law, you've been holding out on us!" Nanette's tone dripped with reproach. "A deal this big and you don't even tell the family? Do you even consider us family at all?"
I stared at my daughter, and something inside me went cold, degree by degree.
All these years, I was the one who stayed up through the night when she was sick. I was the one who drove her to school every single day, rain or shine.
I thought—at the very least—she was on my side.
Instead, she'd handed them my last card.
I was done.
"I'm not playing anymore."
I turned to leave.
Isabel's voice cracked like a whip behind me.
"Leslie!"
"You walk out that door, and we're getting a divorce!"
I didn't look back.
"Then we're getting a divorce."
"I'm done being part of this circus."
The instant I pulled the door open, a chorus of screams erupted behind me.
I spun around.
Ramona had shoved the window open—I had no idea when. Frigid wind howled into the room, and she was already halfway out, her toes dangling over nothing.
In that moment, every drop of blood in my body ran backward.
"Ramona!"
"What are you doing?!"
The words ripped out of me, raw and ragged.
She turned to look at me. The wind had leached all color from her face, but her eyes—her eyes were steel.
"Dad, if you don't keep playing, I'm jumping."
My entire world tilted. Everything went sideways.
My first instinct was that she was bluffing.
Then she inched forward another fraction, and my knees buckled.
Isabel rushed toward me, panic splintering her voice. "Leslie, what project could possibly matter more than your daughter?! Just agree!"
Nicholas chimed in right behind her. "Leslie, I know you're angry, but the child is innocent. For Ramona's sake—can't you just bear with it?"
When I said nothing, Nanette shrieked, "How can you be so heartless?! If anything happens to Ramona, I won't want to live either!"
I looked at my daughter, suspended in the void beyond that windowsill, and a crushing wave of helplessness crashed over me.
"Fine. Fine!"
