Chapter 10 - My Father Wanted One More Fight
The appeal did not become the spectacle Richard wanted.
Evidence has a stubborn quality.
It does not care about dramatic speeches.
The recordings existed.
The financial transfers existed.
The messages existed.
The security footage existed.
Richard’s attorneys challenged procedures and interpretations.
That was their job.
My job was to continue living.
Still, when I saw my father again, something inside me tightened.
He looked smaller.
Prison had turned his hair almost completely gray.
For a moment, I saw the man who used to lift me onto his shoulders when I was five.
That memory hurt more than hatred ever could.
Then he saw me.
“Claire.”
I kept walking.
“Claire!”
I stopped.
His attorney looked uncomfortable.
Richard said, “I’m your father.”
I turned.
“You keep saying that like it’s something you accomplished.”
He stared at me.
“I made mistakes.”
“A mistake is forgetting a birthday.”
His face tightened.
“I never wanted Daniel dead.”
“Then you should have protected him when Thomas talked about hurting him.”
“I didn’t understand.”
“You didn’t want to understand.”
Silence.
Then he looked toward Grace, who was waiting farther down the hallway with Margaret and Ethan.
“My granddaughter.”
“No.”
His expression changed.
“You can hate me—”
“This isn’t about hate.”
“Then let me see her.”
“No.”
“Claire.”
“You do not get access to a child because you share DNA with her.”
He looked wounded.
Years earlier, that expression would have controlled me.
Not anymore.
“You made your choices,” I said. “I’m making mine.”
I walked away.
The appeal failed on the major counts.
There was no celebration.
I took Grace for ice cream.
She chose chocolate.
Then changed to strawberry.
Then cried because she wanted chocolate again.
It was perfect.
Ordinary life had become my favorite luxury.
At the foundation, applications doubled.
We opened transitional housing in three cities.
Margaret insisted the first building be named Grace House.
I objected.
She ignored me.
“I’m older,” she said.
“That’s not how corporate governance works.”
“It is how grandmothers work.”
Ethan laughed.
“Stay out of this,” I told him.
“Yes, ma’am.”
Grace pointed at him.
“Mommy likes you.”
I nearly dropped my coffee.
Margaret smiled.
“Smart child.”
I wanted to disappear.
Ethan merely said, “I like your mommy too.”
Grace considered that.
“Okay.”
Apparently, we had received authorization.
That evening, Ethan walked me home.
At the porch, he stopped.
“I’m not asking you for anything.”
“Good.”
“I’m going to say something anyway.”
“Dangerous.”
“I love you.”
Everything inside me went still.
He didn’t reach for me.
Didn’t demand an answer.
“I know those words are complicated for you,” he said.
“They are.”
“So you don’t have to say anything.”
He turned to leave.
“Ethan.”
He stopped.
“I’m scared.”
He nodded.
“So am I.”
That mattered.
Not a promise that nothing bad would happen.
Not a fantasy.
Just honesty.
I stepped toward him.
“I think I’m falling in love with you too.”
He smiled.
“Think?”
“Don’t push it.”
He laughed.
And I kissed him.
Upstairs, Grace’s baby monitor crackled.
We both jumped apart.
I started laughing.
Daniel would have found the entire scene hilarious.
For once, remembering him did not hurt.
It warmed me.
Then my phone rang.
Nathan.
He sounded strange.
“Claire, Margaret collapsed.”
My smile disappeared.
“What?”
“They’re taking her to the hospital.”
May you like
And suddenly I was running again.
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