The Captain's Dirty Little Secret

Chapter 224: Chapter 224 - Three Thousand Dollars

Roxie shook her head.

”No.”

”I am.”

”No, you’re not.”

Mr. Robinson stayed beside the couch. He made no attempt to touch her, but his hands opened and closed at his sides as though he had to stop himself.

”My father left before I was born.”

”I didn’t leave because I didn’t want you.”

”You’re lying.”

”I’m not.”

”You have a wife.”

”I know.”

”You have Jason.”

His face changed at the name.

The movement was small, but Roxie saw it.

Her stomach tightened.

”No.”

Mr. Robinson took a careful step toward her.

Roxie backed away until the kitchen counter pressed into her lower back.

”Jason is your brother, Roxxane.”

”Shut up.”

”I know this is hard to hear.”

”Shut up.”

”Roxxane, please listen to me.”

”Shut up!” Her voice struck the walls hard enough to leave the bungalow silent afterward.

Mr. Robinson stopped moving.

Roxie gripped the edge of the counter because her legs had weakened beneath her.

Jason was the little boy who fell asleep against her while she read to him. He made her buckle his plastic dinosaurs into seat belts because he thought they might get hurt during the drive. She fed him, bathed him, helped him dress, and waited beside his bed whenever he had a fever.

Her brother.

Mr. Robinson had watched them together.

He had heard Jason call for her from upstairs. He had watched Roxie cut his food into smaller pieces and test his bathwater against her wrist. He had trusted Roxie with Jason almost immediately.

She had believed it was because she was good with children.

He had known Jason was with his sister.

”Does Cynthia know?”

Mr. Robinson looked away.

Roxie’s fingers tightened around the counter.

”Does your wife know I’m your daughter?”

”No.”

The answer entered her chest like something sharp.

”She doesn’t know?”

”No.”

”You let me work inside her house.”

”It was the only way Claire would let me see you.”

Roxie stared at him.

Claire had been the one who pushed her toward the Robinson job. She said someone she knew needed a babysitter and told Roxie to stop complaining about money if she refused to work.

Roxie had never asked how her mother knew them. She was scared to know after meeting them.

Roxie remembered the interview inside the Robinson kitchen. Cynthia had asked about school, emergency contacts, and whether Roxie had experience caring for younger children.

Mr. Robinson had sat near the end of the table and barely spoken. He kept looking at Roxie while Cynthia made the decision.

Roxie had thought he was quiet because childcare was his wife’s concern.

He had already known who she was.

”My mother sent me into your house.”

”Yes.”

”To take care of your son.”

”Yes.”

”And neither of you told me why.”

”Claire wouldn’t allow it.”

Roxie’s mouth opened, but her throat had become too tight to speak.

Mr. Robinson looked toward the floor before continuing.

”She wouldn’t let me speak to you as your father. She wouldn’t let me tell you who I was. She said I could hire you, make sure you ate, pay you extra when you worked late, and keep an eye on you. That was all.”

Roxie’s hands began shaking against the counter.

”That was all she allowed?”

”Yes.”

”So I took care of your son while you watched.”

”I wanted to know you were safe.”

”You watched me clean your house.”

”That wasn’t why you were there.”

”You watched me feed him.”

”I know.”

”You watched me sit at your table while he called you Dad.”

Mr. Robinson lowered his head.

Heat spread across Roxie’s face.

”You knew I was your daughter every time.”

”Yes.”

”And Cynthia knew nothing.”

”No.”

”She hired me without knowing you had another child standing inside her kitchen.”

”I was trying to keep everything under control.”

Roxie laughed, but the sound broke.

”You made me the secret inside her own house.”

”I never wanted you to feel like that.”

”I didn’t know enough to feel anything.”

His eyes filled.

Roxie wanted to wipe the grief from his face with her hand. He had no right to stand there looking broken after allowing her to walk through his home without knowing she belonged to him too.

”Claire said she would disappear with you if I told you,” he said. ”She said I would never see you again.”

”And you believed her?”

”She had already done it once.”

Roxie’s breathing stopped.

Mr. Robinson’s mouth tightened.

Ohio.

”You were young. I pushed too hard. I told her I wanted to be involved, and she left the state. I couldn’t find either of you for years.”

”So you gave up.”

”I was afraid she would take you somewhere I couldn’t find you again.”

”And this was better?”

”It meant I could see you.”

”You could see me,” Roxie said. ”I couldn’t see you.”

Mr. Robinson closed his mouth.

Roxie pushed herself away from the counter. Her legs still felt weak, but she crossed the small space between them.

”You sat across from me and pretended you were helping. You fed me dinner, gave me extra money, and got to feel like a good person. I thought I had a nice boss.”

”I cared about you.”

”You didn’t even tell your wife.”

”It would have destroyed my marriage.”

The words left him before he could stop them.

Roxie went still.

Mr. Robinson’s face tightened with regret, but the sentence had already reached her.

”There it is.”

”Roxxane.”

”God. You protected your marriage.”

”I protected Jason too.”

”You protected your family.”

”You are my family.”

”No.”

”You are.”

”No. You don’t get to walk into my house and decide that today.”

”I have always been your father.”

”You knew my name. You knew my address. You knew where I went to school. That means you had information about me. It doesn’t mean you raised me.”

”I did what Claire allowed.”

”You did what protected your life.”

”That isn’t fair.”

Roxie stared at him.

”Fair?”

He looked down.

Roxie wrapped both arms around her stomach as it started cramping.

”You went home to your wife and your son every night. You knew they had food. You knew where they were sleeping. You knew nobody had left Jason alone for three days.”

Mr. Robinson’s head lifted.

Roxie saw the shock on his face.

”She left you alone?”

”Sometimes.”

”How long?”

”Why does it matter now?”

”I didn’t know.”

”She forgot to pick me up from school. The electricity got cut off. She disappeared for days and came back angry because I asked where she had been.”

Mr. Robinson’s face lost its remaining colour.

”I didn’t know any of that.”

”You knew this address.”

”That doesn’t mean I knew what happened inside the house.”

”You could have come.”

”She would have taken you.”

”You could have checked.”

”I did.”

”As my boss.”

”I offered you rides. I made sure you ate. I paid you more whenever I could.”

”As my boss,” Roxie repeated.

”It was the only way she allowed me to help.”

”You got to help for a few hours, then go home.”

”That isn’t how it felt.”

”I don’t care how it felt for you.”

Mr. Robinson flinched.

Roxie’s eyes burned, but she refused to wipe them while he watched.

”You saw my clothes.”

”I thought you preferred dressing simply.”

She stared at him.

The answer was so stupid that a weak laugh escaped her.

”You thought I liked wearing shoes with the soles coming off?”

His face crumpled.

”You thought I walked everywhere because I enjoyed it?”

”I offered to drive you.”

”And I thought my married boss was trying to get me alone in his car.”

Mr. Robinson’s mouth opened.

Nothing came out.

Roxie shook her head.

”You knew exactly who I was. I was the only person in the room who didn’t.”

”I wanted to tell you, Roxxane.”

”Stop calling me that!”

Her shout struck the walls.

Mr. Robinson stepped back.

”You don’t get to say my name like you raised me. You don’t get to say it like you were there.”

”I’m your father.”

”You were my boss.”

”I am more than that.”

”Not to me.”

His chest rose sharply.

Roxie turned her face away before she saw any more emotion from him.

She remembered Cynthia putting leftovers into containers and insisting Roxie take them home. She remembered Cynthia waiting beside the window until Roxie found a ride. Cynthia letting her borrow a dress to live up the lie she told.

Cynthia telling her she’s a part of their family.

Cynthia’s kindness had been honest because Cynthia had known nothing.

God.

Mr. Robinson had stood beside her while carrying the truth.

”Does Jason know?”

”No.”

”Good.”

Mr. Robinson looked hurt.

The reaction made Roxie’s anger flare again.

”He already loves you.”

”He loves his babysitter.”

”He would love knowing you’re his sister.”

”Stop giving me people after eighteen years like I’m supposed to accept them.”

”I’m trying to tell you the truth.”

”You’re telling me because Claire is dead.”

Mr. Robinson went silent.

Roxie nodded slowly.

”That’s the only reason you’re standing here.”

”I couldn’t tell you while she was alive.”

”You chose her rules.”

”She would have disappeared with you.”

”You keep saying that because you want me to forgive you.”

”I was afraid of losing you.”

”You chose to lose me.”

His shoulders lowered.

”I cared about you every day.”

”You cared from a house across town.”

”I supported you. I gave you money...”

The word stopped Roxie.

Her breathing slowed.

”What?”

Mr. Robinson looked toward the floor.

”I sent money.”

”What money?” Her arms lowered.

Mr. Robinson swallowed like he was confused too.

”Claire received money from you?” She forced herself to speak.

”Yes.”

”For me?”

”Yes.”

Roxie thought about the old clothes inside her bedroom. She thought about the school fees Claire complained about and the grocery money Roxie stretched through the week. She remembered overdue notices on the table whenever her mother disappeared.

”How often?”

”Every month.”

The room became quiet.

”How much?”

Mr. Robinson hesitated.

Roxie’s jaw tightened.

”How much?”

”Three thousand dollars.”

She stared at him.

”What?”

”Three thousand dollars every month.”

The amount made no sense.

”Every month?”

”Yes.”

”For how long?”

”Since you were born.”

Roxie’s fingers slowly opened at her sides.

Three thousand dollars.

Claire screaming because Roxie needed money for a school project.

Three thousand dollars.

Roxie wearing the same coat for years because Claire said replacing it would be wasteful.

Three thousand dollars.

Claire returning after days away without food but with pills hidden inside her bag.

”How much is that a year?”

Mr. Robinson looked at her.

”Answer me.”

”Thirty-six thousand dollars.”

Roxie looked around the bungalow.

Roxie had skipped meals to save money. She stopped asking for school supplies and found work because her mother made every dollar Roxie needed sound like another burden.

Claire had received thirty-six thousand dollars a year because Roxie existed.

”Where did it go?”

”I don’t know.”

Roxie looked at him.

”You never checked?”

”I sent it to Claire.”

”For me.”

”Yes.”

”And you never checked whether I received any of it.”

”I believed she was taking care of you.”

”She used drugs.”

”I didn’t know.”

”You knew her well enough to believe she would disappear with me. You trusted her with three thousand dollars every month?”

Mr. Robinson looked down.

”You sent money and decided your part was finished.”

”No.”

”You paid her so you could stay away.”

”I was supporting my daughter.”

”I wasn’t living like someone getting three thousand dollars every month.”

”I can see that now.”

”You can see it because this is the first time you walked inside.”

His gaze moved around the bungalow.

Roxie watched him look at the worn furniture, the damaged cabinets, and the curtains Claire had owned for as long as Roxie could remember.

He had known the address for eighteen years.

He had never entered the house to see where his daughter lived.

”I’m sorry,” he said.

Roxie’s eyes burned.

”Don’t.”

”Roxxane.”

”Stop.”

”I can send the money directly to you now.”

Roxie stared at him.

”What?”

”The support belongs to you. I can transfer it to you every month.”

”You think I want your money?”

”It has always been yours.”

”Then you should have made sure I got it.”

”I can fix that now.”

”You can’t fix eighteen years.”

”You still need help.”

”I don’t want it.”

”It isn’t charity.”

”It’s the money you used so you could tell yourself you were taking care of me.”

”That isn’t what it was.”

”Then where were you?”

Mr. Robinson had no answer.

Roxie’s breathing came faster.

Every truth pressed against her at once.

Jason was her brother.

Cynthia knew nothing.

Claire had arranged the job so Mr. Robinson could watch Roxie without claiming her.

Three thousand dollars had arrived every month while Claire made Roxie feel guilty for needing food, clothes, and school supplies.

The bungalow felt smaller with him inside it. Roxie could hear the refrigerator, the ticking clock, and both of them breathing.

Mr. Robinson stepped closer.

”Roxxane, let me help you now.”

Roxie moved toward the front door.

”No.”

”Please.”

She unlocked it and pulled it open.

Cold air entered the bungalow.

”Get out.”

Mr. Robinson stared at her. ”You’re overwhelmed.”

”Get out.”

”We can talk again when you’ve had time to process this.”

”No.”

”I understand that you’re angry.”

”You understand nothing.”

”I’m still your father.”

Roxie tightened her hand around the door.

”No, you aren’t.”

”Roxxane.”

”You were Claire’s bank account. You were my boss. That is all you are to me.”

His face folded.

Roxie felt nothing from seeing it.

”I want a chance to know you.”

”You had eighteen years.”

”She kept you from me.”

”You let her.”

”I was scared she would take you.”

”And now she’s dead, so you think I belong to you?”

”I never said that.”

”You walked into my house and called yourself my father.”

”I am your father.”

Roxie raised her voice.

”Get out!”

Mr. Robinson stayed where he was.

”I don’t want to leave you alone like this.”

Her chest tightened painfully.

”You left me alone my whole life.”

”Roxxane, please.”

She pointed toward the porch.

”Go home to your wife.”

His eyes filled again.

”She doesn’t know I exist,” Roxie said. ”Go tell her what you did. Tell her you sent three thousand dollars every month to another woman for eighteen years. Tell her the babysitter inside her house was your daughter.”

”Please lower your voice.”

Roxie laughed through the pressure in her throat.

”You’re still worried about your marriage.”

”That isn’t what I meant.”

”Get out before I call Cynthia myself.”

Mr. Robinson went still.

That moved him.

He stepped onto the porch.

”Can I call you later?”

”No.”

”Roxxane.”

Roxie slammed the door.

She locked it before he could speak again and pressed both palms against the wood.

Mr. Robinson remained on the porch for several seconds. She heard his shoes shift before his footsteps moved away.

A vehicle door opened.

The engine started.

Roxie stayed against the door until the sound disappeared down the road.

Then her legs weakened.

She slid to the floor.

The bungalow looked the same as it had before he arrived. Zac’s shirt still lay near the couch. His Tennessee page remained on the floor. The kitchen cabinets still sagged.

Her father had been close enough to watch her grow up.

Her mother had taken money meant for her while teaching her to feel guilty for existing.

Both of them had known who Roxie was.

She had known neither of them.

Roxie pulled her knees against her chest and buried her face inside her sleeves.

Mr. Robinson had called her his daughter.

She had never felt less wanted.