Chương 7
"Of what?"
"Of losing you."
I looked out the window.
People passed by carrying coffee cups and shopping bags.
"He was afraid of losing me because he lied to me?"
Victoria's voice softened.
"You do not understand what it was like for him."
I turned back.
"No."
The word surprised her.
"No, I don't."
My voice stayed calm.
"Because every time someone explains Dominic's choices, they explain his fear."
I leaned forward.
"Nobody explains mine."
Victoria looked uncomfortable.
That was the first time I had ever seen her without an answer.
"He loves you," she said quietly.
I looked at her.
"Do you know what I needed yesterday?"
She did not speak.
"I needed him to carry a bag."
Victoria lowered her eyes.
"I needed him to notice that I could barely walk."
The silence between us grew.
"I did not need a billionaire husband."
I swallowed.
"I needed my husband."
Her expression changed.
For a second, I saw something different.
Not defensiveness.
Regret.
Then her phone buzzed.
She glanced at it.
The moment passed.
"Dominic is meeting with investors today."
I frowned.
"Why are you telling me that?"
"Because he is scared."
"Good."
The word came out colder than I expected.
Victoria looked at me.
I almost apologized.
Almost.
But I did not.
Because I was tired of making other people's discomfort disappear.
"He thinks this could destroy everything."
I folded my hands.
"What does he think I am going to do?"
Victoria hesitated.
That hesitation answered before her words did.
"He thinks your father will withdraw support."
I felt something tighten in my chest.
Not because I was surprised.
Because I was disappointed.
Even now, after everything, Dominic's first fear was his company.
Not losing me.
Not losing his family.
His reputation.
I stood.
"Audrey."
I picked up my bag.
"Tell Dominic something for me."
Victoria looked up.
"What?"
I took a breath.
"Tell him I never wanted to destroy his future."
A pause.
"Tell him I just stopped pretending he built mine."
I walked away before she could respond.
Outside, the air was cold.
I stood on the sidewalk for a moment, watching people move around me.
My phone rang.
It was my attorney.
The one my father had recommended.
I almost did not answer.
Then I did.
"Audrey, I reviewed the documents."
I closed my eyes.
"And?"
"There is something else you need to know."
My stomach tightened.
"What?"
A pause.
"Dominic did not only receive the investment."
I waited.
"He used information from your relationship with him during a later funding round."
I looked at the street ahead.
Cars moved past.
People crossed the intersection.
Everything continued.
But my world had just changed again.
"What information?"
The attorney's voice became careful.
"Before we go further, I need you to understand something."
"What?"
"If this is accurate, the issue is no longer just about a marriage."
I gripped my phone.
"It may involve your family's company."
"If this is accurate, the issue is no longer just about a marriage."
The attorney's words followed me all the way back to my father's house.
I barely remembered the drive.
The city moved around me in pieces.
A man carrying flowers outside a subway station.
A delivery truck blocking a lane.
A mother holding her daughter's hand while crossing the street.
Small ordinary moments.
Things that used to feel invisible.
I wondered how many people walked through normal days while carrying something heavy nobody else could see.
When I arrived, my father was in the kitchen making coffee.
Not because he needed it.
Because he always made coffee when he was thinking.
He had done it since I was a child.
The first thing he did every morning was make a cup, take one sip, and then forget about it while he worked.
There were probably dozens of cold cups around his office over the years.
"You're back early," he said.
I placed my bag on the counter.
"Something happened."
His expression changed immediately.
"What?"
I told him about the attorney's call.
I watched his face carefully.
My father had mastered controlling his emotions during negotiations.
But this was not a boardroom.
This was his daughter.
And for a brief second, I saw anger.
Not loud anger.
The kind that stayed quiet because it was trying not to become something worse.
"What information?" he asked.
"I don't know yet."
He looked toward the window.
"Did Dominic have access to anything confidential?"
"No."
The answer came quickly.
Then I stopped.
Because suddenly I was not sure.
"He knew things because he was my husband."
My father nodded slowly.
"That distinction matters."
I hated how often everything seemed to have another layer.
"I never discussed business with him."
"Not directly?"
I thought back.
Our conversations.
Dinner.
Long drives.
Late nights.
Dominic asking about my father.
Not in obvious ways.
Small questions.
How my father made decisions.
What kinds of companies he respected.
What mistakes he hated.
At the time, I thought he was interested because he cared about my family.
Now I wondered if he had been collecting information.
"I don't know," I whispered.
My father did not say anything.
He did not accuse Dominic.
He did not comfort me with certainty.
He simply walked to the counter and poured himself another cup of coffee.
This time, he actually drank it.
"That scares me," I admitted.
He looked at me.
"What does?"
"That I cannot tell the difference anymore."
His expression softened.
"Audrey."
I looked down.
"You loved someone."
The simplicity of it almost made me cry.
"People who love each other share things.
They trust.
They do not treat every conversation like evidence."
I sat down at the kitchen table.
"I feel stupid."
My father immediately shook his head.
"No."
"I should have seen it."
"No."
"I ignored things."
"Maybe."
The honesty surprised me.
"But that does not make you stupid."
He sat across from me.
"It makes you human."
May you like
I looked away.
Because part of me wanted him to tell me I had done everything right.
