Chương 6
“Yes.”
“Who gave them to you?”
“I’m not discussing that.”
His expression hardened.
“Why?”
“Because you are asking the wrong question.”
“And what is the right question?”
I stepped closer to the desk.
“Why did you let me believe my whole life that my mother was wrong?”
His face changed.
Only slightly.
But enough.
“You don’t understand what happened.”
“Then explain.”
He looked down.
For several seconds, he said nothing.
I watched the man who could negotiate billion-dollar deals struggle with a simple sentence.
Finally, he walked toward his desk and sat.
“When your mother became suspicious of Helena, she was not herself.”
I felt something inside me close.
There it was.
The familiar move.
Blame the woman who was gone.
“She was under stress.”
“She was dying.”
He stopped.
The words landed between us.
My father looked at me.
I had never said that sentence to him before.
Not like that.
“She was dying,” I repeated.
“And you decided her concerns were just stress.”
His face tightened.
“That is not what happened.”
“Then what happened?”
He rubbed his forehead.
A gesture I had seen Marcus do.
A family habit.
“I was trying to protect the company.”
I laughed once.
A quiet, bitter sound.
“There it is.”
“What?”
“The company.”
He looked confused.
“You always choose it.”
“That’s unfair.”
“Is it?”
I looked around the office.
The awards.
The photographs.
The framed magazine covers.
Everything built from the thing he had chosen over people.
“My mother needed you.”
His eyes lowered.
“I know.”
The answer surprised me.
I expected denial.
Excuses.
Anger.
Not that.
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
Then I noticed something.
Regret did not look good on my father.
It looked unfamiliar.
“You knew,” I said.
He did not respond.
“You knew there was a chance she was right.”
Still nothing.
“You knew.”
His shoulders dropped slightly.
“Yes.”
The word barely left his mouth.
I felt my hands go cold.
“How long?”
“Since before she died.”
I turned away.
The room suddenly felt too small.
“So all these years.”
I swallowed.
“All these years you looked at me and knew?”
“I did what I thought was best.”
I faced him again.
“That is the sentence people use when they want forgiveness without admitting what they did.”
His expression changed.
Anger appeared.
The old Victor returned.
“You think I don’t regret things?”
“I think you regret losing control.”
“That’s not true.”
“Then tell me I’m wrong.”
He opened his mouth.
Nothing came out.
The silence answered for him.
A knock interrupted us.
The door opened before either of us responded.
Helena walked in.
She stopped when she saw me.
For a second, surprise crossed her face.
Then it disappeared.
“Sabrina.”
Her voice was calm.
Too calm.
“I did not know you were here.”
“Yes, you did.”
My father looked between us.
“What does that mean?”
Helena ignored me.
“Victor, we need to talk privately.”
“No.”
The word came from him.
Not loudly.
But firmly.
Her expression shifted.
That was the first time I had ever seen Helena lose control around him.
Only for a second.
But it happened.
“You’re making a mistake.”
My father stared at her.
“Am I?”
The question seemed to unsettle her.
She looked at me.
Then back at him.
“You need to remember who stayed when everyone else left.”
There was something strange about the way she said it.
Not affection.
A reminder.
A warning.
My father stood.
“Leave.”
Helena went still.
“I’m sorry?”
“You heard me.”
For a moment, I thought she might argue.
Instead, she smiled.
A small, controlled smile.
“Fine.”
She walked toward the door.
Before leaving, she stopped beside me.
“You have no idea what you’re doing.”
I looked at her.
“Neither did my mother, apparently.”
The smile disappeared.
Only for a moment.
Then she left.
The door closed.
My father stared at it.
“She knows about the documents.”
“Yes.”
“How?”
I looked at him.
“You tell me.”
He sat back down slowly.
For the first time since I entered the office, he looked genuinely afraid.
Not of me.
Of her.
And that changed everything.
Because until that moment, I had believed my father was the center of the problem.
Now I wondered if he had spent years sitting in the same trap he created for everyone else.
For several seconds after Helena left, neither of us moved.
The office felt different.
Not because anything physical had changed.
The same sunlight came through the windows.
The same traffic moved below us.
The same expensive furniture sat exactly where it had been.
But the balance of the room had shifted.
My father was no longer the only person who seemed certain of what was happening.
That frightened him.
And I could see it.
“You need to be careful,” he said.
The warning irritated me immediately.
Not because it was wrong.
Because it sounded too much like every warning he had ever given me.
Be careful what you say.
Be careful how you act.
Be careful how people see you.
Everything was always about avoiding consequences.
Never about asking why those consequences existed.
“Careful of what?” I asked.
He looked toward the closed door.
“Helena.”
I waited.
The old version of me would have filled the silence.
I would have tried to make him comfortable.
I would have offered him an easier path to explain himself.
I did not do that anymore.
My father noticed.
“She is not who you think she is.”
I almost smiled.
“That’s interesting coming from you.”
His expression tightened.
“I know what you think.”
“No, you don’t.”
“Sabrina.”
“No.”
My voice stayed calm.
That surprised both of us.
“You know what you want me to think.”
He looked at me.
“You want me to believe this is complicated.”
I tapped the folder on his desk.
“You want me to believe there are reasons.”
I paused.
“You want me to believe you were protecting everyone.”
His jaw moved slightly.
May you like
“And maybe there were reasons.”
That answer stopped me.
