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❅ Chapter Sixteen ❅

The week that Risa, Rolando, and Vincent had arrived in France was when The Rosenberg Family gathered at Stella Bearenia's house to talk about what had happened in the past month. A lot has happened and this was the only time they were able to get together and hoped to keep it this way.

Persia hasn't changed that much, she still was as beautiful as she had been eleven years before. "Oh, this is just hopeless, just hopeless. We'll never find Clarissa. Our oldest daughter is gone, there is no way she can be alive." Just saying those words out loud was making her feel horrible.

She took a deep breath trying to collect herself. "I hate laying low while Medusa is still out there laughing at the fact she killed us when she didn't, but she doesn't know that. What if Medusa already killed her years ago? It's a gamble for any of us to keep hoping she is alive." Her heart tore up every moment she thought about her daughter.

Nathan nodded his head, he had changed a little, the worry throughout the years was taking its toll on him. "It's been eleven years since then. Persia is right, there is no way that she's even alive. The chance of meeting her again is very slim and not likely. Anything could have happened to her during that time, it is foolish for us to keep believing such a thing." There had been way too much of a gap.

Willard ran his hand through his salt and peppered hair, having to admit his son was right about something. "If she escaped with you then there is a chance that she is alive. She might just be lost. She'll find her way home and she is a smart girl."  He was being optimistic and his icy blue eyes showed it.

He gave them a gentle smile as he pursed his lips. "Don't give up hope. I know it must be tough for you not to know what happened to your daughter, we must hold on to the hope that she is alive. Persia you have always felt that way." He pointed out hating to see them so discouraged.

Persia nodded resting her cheek in her hand. "You are right. I can't help but be discouraged. It doesn't mean we don't love her because we do. I will always love her. She is my daughter. There are just too many reasons and the years that have passed make it harder to believe she is alive." Many who had a missing child felt the same way.

Willard reached over and rested a hand on top of the hand that was resting on the couch. "It is alright to be discouraged. Yes, it can be tiring and emotionally draining to wait all these years in hope she will return. I have faith we will see her again or at least find out what happened."

Persia gave him a gentle smile. He was right, they all needed to have hope she was alive, even if it seemed impossible. "Thank you." She softly spoke, touched by his words to her. They made her feel better since she had been so down for so long. 

Willard gripped the arms of his chair moving onto a different subject. "Now something that has been bothering me ever since then: how dare she threaten you. And how dare she try to kill you. She had some nerve doing what she did. I'm glad you banned her from the kingdom. She was a bad apple. I never liked her." He sneered thinking back to that night and how it made his blood boil.

Persia frowned at her father-in-law's words. He had always been a little cold towards anyone. "She was my friend. It is hard to imagine she did the things she did. I was heartbroken to know what happened and yes perhaps we should have escorted her out ourselves, that is in the past." She pushed a lock of hair from her face.

Nathan looked over at his father and gave him a look that said he was not pleased with his father's words. "Now father, we can't dwell on the past. What's done is done. It's none of our concerns anymore. We have moved on and had a new life far away from Canada." He pointed out, knowing it was merely impossible for anyone to know they were alive.

Willard frowned at what his son had said and shaken his head, balling his fist and shaking it. "If she tries anything, we'll be ready for her this time and I will not let anything happen." He gripped in a sour tone, rubbing his temples and sighing gently.