Chapter 10
The girls came home on Saturday.
Sophie threw herself into my arms. Ellie walked straight to Alexander and hugged his waist — something she rarely initiated.
"We saw the news, Daddy," Ellie said quietly. "Grandma tried to hide it, but I can read."
Of course she could. She was five going on thirty-five.
Alexander knelt to her level. "What did you read?"
"That our real father did bad things to Mommy. And that our aunt tried to hurt her." She looked up. "But you saved her."
"Your mommy saved herself," Alexander said. "I just drove fast."
Ellie considered this, then nodded. "Thank you for driving fast."
She walked to her room with Sophie, and I heard them whispering to each other — processing in their own way.
"She's going to need therapy," I murmured.
"We'll get her the best," Alexander said. "Both of them."
The following week was a blur of legal proceedings. Vanessa was charged with attempted murder, fraud, and forgery. Her bail was set at five million — which no one paid.
Derek cooperated fully with prosecutors. His punishment would be lighter for his testimony, but he wasn't walking free either. Conspiracy to commit murder. He would serve time.
His lawyer sent a letter to mine.
*"Mr. Hale understands he has no right to ask for anything. But he wishes Mrs. Cavanaugh to know that he does not contest her husband's legal parentage of the children. He asks only that, someday — if and when the children choose — they might be told the truth about him. The full truth. Including what he did wrong."*
I read the letter three times.
Then I put it in a drawer. That conversation was years away. The girls were too young. Too fresh from the storm.
But someday — maybe — I would tell them.
On Thursday, Alexander came home with flowers. Not for me.
Two small bouquets — daisies for Sophie, sunflowers for Ellie. He presented them with a bow, and the girls squealed.
"What's the occasion?" I asked.
"No occasion. I just think my daughters deserve flowers on a Thursday."
Sophie hugged her daisies. Ellie stuck her sunflower behind her ear like she'd seen in a movie.
This was the man who found me broken in a ravine and chose to put me back together. Not because he owed me. Not because he was guilty. Because something in him recognized something in me.
And five years later, he was still choosing us. Every Thursday. Every bedtime story. Every scraped knee and nightmare and first day of school.
That night, after the girls were asleep, I found him in his study.
"I love you," I said. "I don't think I say it enough."
He looked up from his work, and his whole face changed. Softened. The ruthless businessman gone. Just the man.
"You say it every day," he said. "Just not always with words."
He pulled me onto his lap, and I rested my head against his chest, listening to his heartbeat.
"Is it really over?" I whispered.
"The worst of it. Yes."
"And Vanessa?"
"Will be in prison for a very long time. Her trial starts next month. You don't have to attend if—"
"I'll attend. I need to see it through."
He nodded. "Then I'll be beside you."
Of course he would. He always was.
Sophie threw herself into my arms. Ellie walked straight to Alexander and hugged his waist — something she rarely initiated.
"We saw the news, Daddy," Ellie said quietly. "Grandma tried to hide it, but I can read."
Of course she could. She was five going on thirty-five.
Alexander knelt to her level. "What did you read?"
"That our real father did bad things to Mommy. And that our aunt tried to hurt her." She looked up. "But you saved her."
"Your mommy saved herself," Alexander said. "I just drove fast."
Ellie considered this, then nodded. "Thank you for driving fast."
She walked to her room with Sophie, and I heard them whispering to each other — processing in their own way.
"She's going to need therapy," I murmured.
"We'll get her the best," Alexander said. "Both of them."
The following week was a blur of legal proceedings. Vanessa was charged with attempted murder, fraud, and forgery. Her bail was set at five million — which no one paid.
Derek cooperated fully with prosecutors. His punishment would be lighter for his testimony, but he wasn't walking free either. Conspiracy to commit murder. He would serve time.
His lawyer sent a letter to mine.
*"Mr. Hale understands he has no right to ask for anything. But he wishes Mrs. Cavanaugh to know that he does not contest her husband's legal parentage of the children. He asks only that, someday — if and when the children choose — they might be told the truth about him. The full truth. Including what he did wrong."*
I read the letter three times.
Then I put it in a drawer. That conversation was years away. The girls were too young. Too fresh from the storm.
But someday — maybe — I would tell them.
On Thursday, Alexander came home with flowers. Not for me.
Two small bouquets — daisies for Sophie, sunflowers for Ellie. He presented them with a bow, and the girls squealed.
"What's the occasion?" I asked.
"No occasion. I just think my daughters deserve flowers on a Thursday."
Sophie hugged her daisies. Ellie stuck her sunflower behind her ear like she'd seen in a movie.
This was the man who found me broken in a ravine and chose to put me back together. Not because he owed me. Not because he was guilty. Because something in him recognized something in me.
And five years later, he was still choosing us. Every Thursday. Every bedtime story. Every scraped knee and nightmare and first day of school.
That night, after the girls were asleep, I found him in his study.
"I love you," I said. "I don't think I say it enough."
He looked up from his work, and his whole face changed. Softened. The ruthless businessman gone. Just the man.
"You say it every day," he said. "Just not always with words."
He pulled me onto his lap, and I rested my head against his chest, listening to his heartbeat.
"Is it really over?" I whispered.
"The worst of it. Yes."
"And Vanessa?"
"Will be in prison for a very long time. Her trial starts next month. You don't have to attend if—"
"I'll attend. I need to see it through."
He nodded. "Then I'll be beside you."
Of course he would. He always was.