Chương 7
“And mine?”
Marcus said nothing.
That was the answer.
The children came running back downstairs before the conversation could continue.
And maybe that was a good thing.
Because I needed time.
Because anger was simple.
But understanding someone who hurt you was much harder.
That night, after everyone went to sleep, I opened my laptop.
I searched for Reynolds Capital.
The company had grown.
The name appeared in articles.
Expansion.
New leadership.
Major acquisitions.
Then I found something from eight years earlier.
A lawsuit.
A financial dispute.
A leadership transition.
And one name appeared repeatedly.
Marcus Reynolds.
I stared at the screen.
The man who abandoned me had spent eight years building a public image.
And now I was starting to wonder what else he had buried to protect it.
The next morning, I woke up with the laptop still open on the kitchen table.
I had fallen asleep sitting there.
The screen showed the same article I had read a dozen times.
Reynolds Capital Announces New Leadership Structure Following Internal Dispute.
The words looked different after everything I knew.
Before yesterday, it had been just another business article about wealthy people solving wealthy people problems.
Now every sentence felt like it had something hidden underneath.
I closed the laptop before the children came downstairs.
They did not need to wake up to a mother investigating their father’s past.
They needed breakfast.
They needed cartoons.
They needed to argue about who got the blue bowl.
They needed to be eight years old.
Not witnesses to a family crisis.
When I walked into the kitchen, Marcus was already there.
That surprised me.
He was standing at the counter making pancakes.
Not expertly.
Not gracefully.
The first pancake was burned.
The second one was shaped like a country I could not identify.
The third looked almost normal.
“You’re cooking?” I asked.
He glanced over.
“I was trying.”
“That is usually how cooking works.”
A small smile appeared.
“I deserved that.”
I leaned against the doorway.
“You keep saying that.”
“Because I keep deserving it.”
The answer was quiet.
I hated that it made him seem human.
It would have been easier if he had stayed the man from my memories.
The arrogant man who walked away.
The man who turned my pain into an inconvenience.
But people were rarely frozen in the worst thing they ever did.
That was the difficult part.
They changed.
Sometimes too late.
Sometimes after they had already caused damage.
“Did you sleep?” he asked.
“Not much.”
He looked at the laptop on the table.
His expression changed.
“You looked.”
It was not a question.
I nodded.
“I found the lawsuit.”
Marcus stopped moving.
For a moment, the kitchen became completely silent.
Even the coffee machine seemed louder.
“You should have told me.”
“I know.”
I looked at him.
He stopped himself.
“Sorry.”
That was the first time he caught it.
The habit.
The automatic response.
“I’m trying to stop saying things instead of actually answering.”
I crossed my arms.
“Then answer.”
He turned off the stove.
“I didn’t tell you because I was ashamed.”
“That is not enough.”
“I know.”
I gave him a look.
He sighed.
“Sorry.”
This time, I almost smiled.
Almost.
“Eight years ago, my father was being investigated.”
“For what?”
“Financial misconduct.”
I waited.
Marcus looked uncomfortable.
Not because he did not want to speak.
Because he was finally saying things that could not be taken back.
“There were decisions made inside the company that were questionable.”
“By your father?”
“Yes.”
“And you?”
He looked at me.
“I was involved.”
The honesty surprised me.
“How involved?”
“I signed documents.”
The answer landed heavily.
“Were they illegal?”
“No.”
He answered too quickly.
Then paused.
“I don’t think so.”
That pause mattered.
“Marcus.”
“I was twenty-eight.”
“That is not an excuse.”
“I know.”
He looked down.
“I thought I understood business.”
“And you didn’t.”
“No.”
His voice became quieter.
“I understood numbers.”
He looked toward the window.
“I did not understand people.”
That sentence stayed with me.
Because it explained more than he probably intended.
“When my father realized there could be an investigation, he needed someone clean to take over.”
“Someone with a good reputation.”
“Yes.”
“And then I became a problem.”
Marcus did not deny it.
“You were not the problem.”
“But I was inconvenient.”
He looked at me.
“Yes.”
The honesty hurt.
Not because it was new.
Because it confirmed what I had always felt.
“I thought if I stayed with you, everything would fall apart.”
“So you made sure my life fell apart instead.”
His face tightened.
“I know.”
I looked away.
“Stop.”
He nodded.
“I’m sorry.”
That was better.
Not because it fixed anything.
Because at least he was learning.
The children came downstairs before we could continue.
Noah immediately noticed the pancakes.
“Dad made breakfast?”
Marcus looked nervous.
“Yes.”
Noah inspected the plate.
“Did you make these?”
“Yes.”
He picked up a piece.
“Are they supposed to be black?”
Ethan laughed.
Marcus looked offended.
“They are slightly overdone.”
“They are burned,” Sophia said.
Olivia nodded seriously.
“Very burned.”
I covered my mouth to hide a smile.
Marcus saw.
For a second, something passed between us.
Something familiar.
Something from before everything broke.
Then it disappeared.
The children ate anyway.
Because children cared less about perfection than adults did.
After breakfast, Marcus asked if he could take them to a nearby park.
I hesitated.
Not because I thought he would hurt them.
Because I knew the opposite was possible.
They might love him.
And love created another kind of fear.
The fear of losing something after finally finding it.
“You’ll be back before lunch,” I said.
He nodded.
“And keep your phone on.”
“And if they get tired—”
“I know.”
I stopped.
He looked at me.
“I know,” he repeated.
This time, it did not sound like a defense.
It sounded like a promise.
May you like
After they left, Patricia found me in the kitchen.
She held a stack of old photographs.
