Chapter 13
Lydia left her father.
Not metaphorically.
Actually.
Moved out.
Stopped using Vale money.
Took a job with a design firm whose owner had no connection to either family.
Silas called it betrayal.
Of course.
Anyone who treats family as infrastructure experiences independence as sabotage.
Preston eventually agreed to meet her.
Neutral café.
I knew because he told me afterward.
Not asking permission.
Transparency.
Better.
“She says she still loves me.”
“Do you believe her?”
“Yes.”
“Do you trust her?”
“No.”
Good distinction.
“What do I do?”
I almost laughed.
“You’re thirty-seven.”
“Very helpful.”
“Exactly.”
He had spent years wanting someone to tell him what position he deserved.
Now he had to decide what relationship he wanted without inheritance, title, or approval.
Healthy misery.
Harper met Lydia much later.
Not because she wanted reconciliation.
Because Lydia asked to apologize.
Harper accepted the meeting.
Lydia said:
“I’m sorry for grabbing your arm.”
Harper waited.
“For crushing the photograph.”
More.
“For helping search your mother’s memorial.”
More.
Then Lydia stopped.
Harper said:
“And?”
Lydia cried.
“For treating you like you mattered less because Preston was the one I needed.”
There.
That was the injury beneath the actions.
Harper nodded.
“Thank you.”
No hug.
No forgiveness statement.
Meeting over.
Lydia left.
Harper called me afterward.
“I feel worse.”
“That happens.”
“Great.”
May you like
We laughed.
Healing is badly marketed.
