Chapter 17 - THE LAST NIGHT AT HOLLOW CREEK
Andrew was required to leave Hollow Creek by the end of the week.
The property trust had never granted him permanent ownership rights.
His occupancy had depended on our marriage and my authorization.
I gave him seven days.
Not because he deserved seven.
Because I wanted the transition documented and orderly.
On the final evening, I returned to the mansion for the first time since the slap.
Security accompanied me.
The foyer looked exactly the same.
Golden chandelier.
White marble.
Tall windows.
The table where the crystal had shattered was still beside the staircase.
Someone had removed the broken glass.
But I remembered exactly where every piece had fallen.
Andrew stood near the fireplace.
No Brenda.
No guests.
No mother.
No audience.
For a moment, we simply looked at each other.
Then he spoke.
“You really came.”
“It is my house.”
His mouth tightened.
“You enjoy saying that.”
“No.”
I looked around.
“I hate that I ever had to.”
Boxes covered the floor.
His clothes.
Books.
Awards.
Framed magazine covers.
The pieces of a life he believed proved his importance.
He picked up a photograph.
Our wedding.
“You could stop this.”
“I could.”
“Then why won’t you?”
“Because stopping consequences is how we got here.”
He looked at me.
“I said I’m sorry.”
“You said you would apologize if I gave you money.”
“That is not fair.”
I almost laughed.
“Fair?”
His eyes filled with anger.
Then he controlled it.
“I loved you.”
“I believe you.”
That surprised him.
I continued.
“But your love required me to remain smaller than you.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“You never told me who you really were.”
“I told you my name.”
“You didn’t tell me about the money.”
“Because I wanted you to love me without it.”
“That was dishonest.”
“Maybe.”
I accepted the accusation.
“Keeping my wealth private was a mistake.”
He seemed almost relieved.
Then I added.
“But privacy did not make you cheat.”
His face hardened.
“It did not make you steal from the company.”
He looked away.
“It did not make you help frame me.”
Silence.
“It did not make you hit me.”
That was the one he could not escape.
He sat on the edge of a box.
“What happens to me now?”
The question sounded almost like a child’s.
“You live with what you chose.”
“Mariana.”
I moved toward the door.
He called after me.
“Do you remember what you said?”
I stopped.
“That night.”
I turned.
“You said everyone would beg for your forgiveness.”
“Yes.”
“Well?”
“What?”
“Is this what you wanted?”
He expected triumph.
I felt none.
“No.”
“Then what do you want?”
I looked at the exact place where he had ordered me to kneel.
“I wanted you to understand that I never needed to.”
Andrew lowered his eyes.
May you like
For the first time, he had nothing beneath him except the same marble floor where he once tried to make me crawl.
I walked out without asking him to do the same.
