Ritchie tucked the address into his jacket pocket. He gave himself one final once-over before leaving the house. He wanted to look perfect, and he did. He was in his early sixties, but he didn't have a single wrinkle. His dark, chocolate complexion was smooth and strong. His mustache was salt-and-pepper and his hair, which he kept real low, was a beautiful silver. The contrast of the white hair and the dark skin made him even more handsome.
In his day, and even this day, he was the kind of man who would turn heads. But there was only one woman he had his sights on— his daughter.
He hadn't seen her since she was a baby. Ritchie didn't have many regrets in his life. He considered himself a good citizen. He had a beautiful wife, a great son of whom he was very proud. He was fairly successful— had the house, a nice car, and all the trappings of someone who lives well.
But there was one blemish on an otherwise stellar record.
He had his reasons for not being there for his baby girl— his namesake, no less. He even secretly followed her career and fame with both pride and shame. But who was he to judge?
He thought the hardest conversation he would ever have would be with his son. And it was tough. Randolph felt betrayed and lied to. And he was. His primary concern was his mother, but he was also shocked to learn that she knew— she knew it all.
Randolph said he needed time to process it all. And he was taking his time. He had a new woman in his life and he wanted to start a new life free from drama, lies, and chaos. And this Ritz situation— everything around Ritz period— was a bit much for Randolph. He made himself unavailable to his parents for the time being.
Ritchie felt it was time to step up and put his family back together. Or, at the very least, it was time to face the consequences of his actions of thirty-plus years before.
He had to face his daughter, look in her eyes, and tell her the truth. She deserved to know why her father wasn't there for her. She deserved to know the whole story.