Chapter 14
Victor requested one final meeting.
I accepted.
My mother’s old library.
Neutral ground.
He arrived without the family ring.
Interesting.
“Did you remove it?”
“No.”
“Why not wear it?”
He looked at his hand.
“Meaning changes.”
Good.
Maybe something had entered.
Not enough.
We sat.
He did not apologize.
I preferred that to a fake one.
Instead he said:
“You were right about one thing.”
“Only one?”
His mouth almost moved.
“Celeste.”
I waited.
“I used what happened to her.”
“Yes.”
“I thought it made her reliable.”
“It made her wounded.”
He looked away.
For Victor, that distinction was probably revolutionary.
Then he surprised me.
“I was afraid of Lucia.”
My mother.
“Why?”
“She could make everyone in a room feel ashamed without raising her voice.”
I smiled faintly.
Sounds like Mom.
“She made the Water Lesson look barbaric.”
“It was barbaric.”
He frowned.
“I know that now.”
Maybe.
Maybe not fully.
“What changed?”
He looked toward the conservatory outside the windows.
“Owen asked me a question.”
I went still.
“When?”
“Before the reception. Months ago.”
I did not know they had spoken.
“What?”
“He asked why Morello men were scared of him crying.”
That sounded like Owen.
Simple.
Sharp.
Victor continued.
“I told him they weren’t.”
“What did he say?”
“That we acted like it.”
I almost laughed.
Three years old and already better at diagnosis than half my council.
Victor rubbed his hands.
“I have spent my life believing fear spreads if adults acknowledge it.”
“And?”
“Maybe cruelty spreads faster when they don’t.”
That was the closest thing to accountability he had offered.
I nodded.
Still no restoration.
He understood.
Before leaving, he asked:
“Will I ever see him again?”
“I don’t know.”
He looked at me.
“Your answer for Celeste too?”
“Yes.”
“Fair.”
That word mattered.
Not forgiven.
Not restored.
Fair.
May you like
He left.
For the first time in my life, Victor walked away from a Morello room without assuming he would eventually return to command it.
