Chapter 14 - Lydia Makes Her Own Choice
Three months later, my mother moved out of the cottage.
Not because Margaret had won.
Because we bought a house.
Small.
White.
A porch overlooking the river.
My mother cried when I handed her the keys.
“You bought this?”
“With Dad’s money.”
Recovery from the Carter trust was still underway, but the court had released enough undisputed funds for us to live comfortably.
I didn’t want a mansion.
I didn’t want thirty bedrooms.
I wanted my mother to have a kitchen where the cabinets closed properly.
She ran her fingers over the countertop.
“Daniel would have loved this.”
That sentence no longer destroyed me.
It hurt.
But differently.
Grief had begun changing shape.
Cassian visited once during the move.
He carried boxes.
I made sure everyone saw.
The feared head of the Vale organization carrying a carton labeled TOWELS.
Evelyn took a photograph.
He threatened to buy her phone company.
She said, “Brother behavior.”
He stopped threatening her.
Their relationship remained strange.
But real.
Rebecca Sloan’s investigation expanded.
Several Vale employees were charged.
So were former Aldridge executives.
Cassian provided documents voluntarily.
Some of his businesses faced fines.
Two licenses were suspended.
One company entered federal oversight.
He hated every minute.
He did it anyway.
Mara finalized the divorce.
The day after, she sent Cassian a cake.
Across the top:
CONGRATULATIONS ON WIFE NUMBER SIX OFFICIALLY ESCAPING.
He did not laugh.
I did.
Mara returned to Vermont.
This time for real.
She and the pastry chef opened a bakery.
Life became strangely ordinary.
Then Cassian disappeared.
Not literally.
He stopped calling.
No visits.
No sarcastic messages.
No late-night conversations about corporate records.
At first I was relieved.
Then irritated.
Then, annoyingly, disappointed.
After two weeks I drove to Vale House.
Tomas opened the door.
“He’s in the library.”
“Is he avoiding me?”
Tomas considered.
“Yes.”
“Thank you.”
“You asked.”
Cassian was sitting behind a desk surrounded by legal papers.
He looked up.
“Lydia.”
“That is my name.”
“What are you doing here?”
“Excellent hospitality.”
He stood.
“Is Helen okay?”
“Fine.”
“The house?”
“Still standing.”
“What happened?”
“You stopped speaking to me.”
He looked genuinely confused.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because you asked for your life back.”
“When?”
“Repeatedly.”
“That was before.”
“Before what?”
I hated that question because I didn’t have a clean answer.
Before I learned him.
Before I understood that his silence could mean restraint instead of anger.
Before I started missing him.
“I don’t know.”
He leaned against the desk.
“I do.”
“What?”
“You were forced into my life.”
My chest tightened.
“I never wanted that.”
“I know.”
“You were nearly married to me because people used your mother against you.”
“I remember.”
“You should be able to walk away without wondering whether you owe me anything.”
“I don’t owe you anything.”
“Exactly.”
“So why are you deciding what walking away looks like for me?”
He stopped.
I stepped closer.
“You keep talking about choice.”
“Yes.”
“Then stop making mine.”
The room went silent.
Something changed in his face.
“What are you choosing?”
I almost lost my nerve.
Almost.
“I’m choosing dinner.”
He blinked.
“With you.”
Another blink.
“Tonight.”
Cassian Vale, who intimidated politicians, judges, criminals, and apparently hotel receptionists, looked completely unprepared.
“Dinner.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because normal people eat.”
“Together?”
“Sometimes.”
His mouth twitched.
“Is this a date?”
“If you continue interrogating me, no.”
“Then yes.”
We ate at a small Italian restaurant twenty miles away.
No private room.
No guards at the table.
No business.
No deals.
I learned Cassian hated olives.
He learned I secretly watched terrible reality television.
I learned he had wanted to study architecture.
He learned I had once planned to become a nurse before my mother’s medical bills forced me into full-time work.
“You could go back,” he said.
“To school?”
“Yes.”
“Maybe.”
“What would you choose if money wasn’t part of the decision?”
I thought.
“I don’t know yet.”
He nodded.
“That’s a good answer.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s yours.”
After dinner we walked beside the river.
I stopped near the railing.
“Cassian.”
“Yes.”
“I need to ask something.”
“All right.”
“Did you ever love any of them?”
“The wives?”
“Yes.”
“No.”
“Mara?”
“I cared for her.”
“But not love.”
“No.”
“Do you know what love feels like?”
He looked toward the water.
“No.”
The answer should have disappointed me.
Instead it felt honest.
Then he looked at me.
“I know what fear feels like.”
“What are you afraid of?”
“You.”
I laughed.
“Very funny.”
“I’m serious.”
My smile faded.
“Why?”
“Because every relationship I have ever had came with paperwork, leverage, strategy, or obligation.”
His eyes held mine.
“You don’t.”
My heart hammered.
“So?”
“So I don’t know how to control what happens.”
“Maybe that’s the point.”
“Yes.”
We stood close now.
Not touching.
The old version of Cassian might have reached for me.
This one waited.
I knew what he was doing.
Leaving the decision to me.
So I made it.
I kissed him.
Brief.
Soft.
Terrifying.
When I stepped back, he looked stunned.
“That was—”
“Don’t ruin it.”
He nodded.
“Good policy.”
I laughed.
Then his phone rang.
Of course.
He looked at the screen.
Rebecca.
The world seemed determined to interrupt every peaceful moment.
He answered.
His expression changed.
“What?”
I knew immediately.
Another secret.
Another problem.
Cassian listened.
Then looked at me.
“We need to go.”
“What happened?”
“Margaret escaped transport.”
My stomach dropped.
“How?”
“They don’t know yet.”
“Where would she go?”
Cassian already knew.
“Your mother.”
I was running before he finished.
But when we reached my new house, the front door stood open.
The living room was empty.
My mother’s purse remained on the table.
Her phone lay beside it.
And on the kitchen counter was the wedding dress.
Evelyn’s dress.
The same one I had worn three months earlier.
Across the white fabric, Margaret had placed a note.
May you like
FINISH WHAT YOU STARTED.
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