Chapter 18 - THE MAN I COULDN'T FORGIVE
Ethan asked to see me.
I almost said no.
Then I remembered his face in the laboratory.
Blood on his shirt.
His mother standing over him.
His whispered apology.
So I went.
He sat by the hospital window.
Pale.
Weak.
But alive.
“You came.”
“Yes.”
He smiled.
“I didn't think you would.”
“I almost didn't.”
He nodded.
“I understand.”
I sat across from him.
For several seconds, neither of us spoke.
Then he said:
“I owe you an apology.”
“You owe me more than one.”
“I know.”
He looked down.
“I was afraid.”
“So was I.”
“I thought if I pushed you away, they would leave you alone.”
“You almost destroyed me.”
“I know.”
“You froze my accounts.”
“I know.”
“You made me believe I meant nothing.”
His eyes filled with tears.
“That was never true.”
I looked away.
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“Because every time I tried, someone threatened you.”
“You could have trusted me.”
“I didn't trust myself.”
That answer surprised me.
He continued.
“I was raised by people who believed love was weakness.”
“And you believed them.”
“For a while.”
I looked at him.
“Do you still love me?”
He smiled sadly.
“Yes.”
I swallowed.
“I don't know what I feel.”
“You don't have to.”
He looked toward the window.
“I don't want you back.”
I stared.
“What?”
“You deserve a life without fear.”
He reached for a folder.
“What's that?”
“Divorce papers.”
I looked at them.
“You signed?”
“Yes.”
“All of them?”
“Yes.”
He pushed them toward me.
“No conditions.”
I stared.
“You're giving me everything?”
“The house.”
“I don't want it.”
“Your choice.”
“The accounts?”
“Yours.”
“The company?”
I looked at him.
“Why?”
“Because I don't want anything that reminds me of what we became.”
I signed the papers.
My hand didn't shake this time.
When I stood, Ethan said:
“Claire.”
I turned.
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For surviving.”
I nodded.
Then I walked out.
It hurt.
But it was the right kind of pain.
The pain of closing a door.
Outside, Adrian waited.
“How did it go?”
“It's over.”
He nodded.
I looked at him.
“I think I finally understand.”
“What?”
“Love isn't someone deciding what is best for you.”
“No.”
“It's someone letting you choose.”
He smiled.
“Yes.”
I reached for his hand.
He looked surprised.
I smiled.
“You don't have to protect me from everything.”
“I know.”
“You don't have to decide for me.”
“I know.”
“And you don't have to leave.”
His eyes softened.
“I wasn't planning to.”
We stood together.
No secrets.
No contracts.
No lies.
Then my phone rang.
A message appeared.
CONGRATULATIONS, CLAIRE.
Another message followed.
YOU DESTROYED PROJECT THREE.
Then:
NOW MEET PROJECT FOUR.
A photograph appeared.
A newborn baby.
Not mine.
Not Grace.
Not Lucas.
Not Noah.
A completely different child.
Underneath was a name.
SUBJECT FOUR — ADRIAN'S SON.
I stared.
Adrian took the phone.
His face went completely white.
“What?”
He whispered:
“I don't have a son.”
I looked at him.
The message continued.
HE DOESN'T KNOW YOU EXIST.
Then an address appeared.
Paris.
I looked at Adrian.
“Someone wants us to find him.”
He nodded.
“Then we find him.”
May you like
But neither of us noticed the final line.
BRING CLAIRE ALONE.
