Mr Callahan rose to his feet. He approached the girl who still had her crimson eyes on him, crossing the space between them until he was standing a few inches away from her. She was the same height as his precious Lila. He didn't know if it was because he missed his daughter too much, or if grief had started to warp his vision, but there was something hauntingly familiar about her face.
His gaze drifted to her hair– silver white coiled into two buns, the tips stained with a vivid, unnatural red. Dyed, perhaps. Or not. He wasn't sure he wanted to know.
"Rhea," he uttered. "Rhea Callahan Ashbourne. That is your new name starting from today." He extended his hand, and Rhea's expression flattened as she rehearsed her new name before letting it touch her lips. Not a code, not a number. Just a normal human name.
It was cute.
She shook his hand and smiled. "Big Daddy," there was something playful and cruel in her tone. "I am not some freaking teenage orphan anymore. I'll be turning eighteen in a couple of months in case you haven't noticed." She raised two fingers to specify. "I'm way past the age for dolls and daddy issues to still be adopted. But here I am, in your perfect little mansion… under your perfect little name. What's the catch? Because I don't plan on leaving anytime soon."
"That's the point," Callahan uttered quietly, his voice low. "You're here for a reason, Rhea. My daughter died from being brutally bullied in school," he paused, trying to compose himself as the images flashed in his mind. Meanwhile, Rhea's almond-shaped eyes lit-up at the sudden info, except it wasn't out of sympathy, but with a sick sort of delight.
Callahan continued. "What I want is for you to attend the academy and help me avenge my daughter's unjustful death. In return, you'll live here. But there will be rules. Strict ones. To make sure you stay out of trouble."
Rhea tilted her head slightly to the side, her gaze sharpening like a scalpel. "Okay, so you're offering me food, shelter, maybe a warm bed, all in exchange for doing what got me into prison? Okay!" She grinned, twirling around as she observed Mr Callahan's home, like a cat deciding where to dig its claws. "Big Daddy is influential, isn't he? Rhea will do her best to not fail big Daddy."
"That includes no funny business," Steven added, making Rhea roll her eyes. "We have all your personal records, hence, we also know what you're capable of doing, including the crimes you've committed in the past. I'd advise that you cooperate fairly in this matter."
Rhea shot him a disapproving glance before sighing, her lips curling into a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Alright," she murmured, her voice syrupy and unbothered. "As long as Big Daddy has a problem with what I do, I'll try to control myself whenever the situation arises. Is that fair enough?"
Steven's brow furrowed at her indirect remark. There she was again– calling the boss Big Daddy like this was some twisted family reunion. She wasn't here to play his daughter's role. She was merely a weapon in both their eyes, barely unleashed.
However, Callahan didn't seem to mind the way she referred to him as Big Daddy. He simply held out a USB drive, handing it to Steven. Before Steven could take hold of it, Rhea snatched it without hesitation, spinning it once between her fingers before tossing a glance at the annoyed Steven, and she smiled sweetly, her face deceptively innocent.
"So, do I follow the watchdog?"
Watchdog????
Steven blinked, a bit flabbergasted by the way she referred to him as a watchdog. Before he could say anything to her, Callahan intervened.
"That USB drive contains footage of what they did to my daughter, including the faces of those responsible. Learn the names. And let me be aware of how messy you want to be. Do not act without my orders." There was a subtle warning in his voice that Rhea managed to catch, and she looked at the USB drive in her hand, her smile returning– this time wider, and hungrier.
"Perfect."
—----
Left alone in his study, Callahan approached his polished desk, where a looming portrait of his family sat– him, his late wife, and their daughter smiling. He had lost the three most important people in his life, and he wondered what he had done wrong to deserve such a bitter fate.
They had broken her. His only daughter. His joy. The one good thing in his world of politics, power, and wolves in human skin. His jaw tightened as he remembered how he had to bear the sight of his daughter's lifeless body, unable to reverse time and change her fate.
"My daughter wouldn't even hurt a fly," he said quietly to no one, his voice like gravel. Tears, angry and filled with hurt, welled up in his eyes as what he had seen in the footage resurfaced in his mind.
"...And they did that to her."
The desk was no longer for writing letters or signing deals. Now, it bore a different weight; a stack of files. Printed emails. Surveillance stills. Names. Faces.
"I haven't forgotten," he murmured, touching the edge of a file like it burned. "The authorities' judgment won't be as satisfying as what I have planned to avenge your death, Lila."