Chapter 9 - I VISITED ADRIAN ONCE
I visited him in prison one time.
Not during the first year.
Not the second.
Four years after the divorce.
Why?
I wish I had a dramatic answer.
I didn’t.
I wanted to see whether the man in my memories still existed.
Adrian entered the visiting room thinner.
Gray at the temples.
No tailored suit.
No Vale entourage.
He smiled sadly.
“Nora.”
“Adrian.”
We sat.
He asked about the company first.
“Stable.”
“Nina still there?”
“She became permanent CEO.”
He smiled.
“She always should have been.”
That surprised me.
Then:
“How’s Harbor Nine?”
“Profitable.”
“Expansion finished?”
“Yes.”
He nodded.
For a moment, we were back in another life.
Two executives discussing freight volume.
Then he asked:
“Are you married?”
“No.”
“Seeing anyone?”
“That is no longer information you’re entitled to.”
He nodded.
“Fair.”
Then:
“I’ve had years to think about the night you found us.”
I said nothing.
“You know what I regret most?”
I expected:
The affair.
The signature.
Losing the company.
Instead:
“That I texted you saying I was proud.”
My throat tightened.
“Why?”
“Because I was.”
He looked at me.
“You were saving everything.”
“And I knew it.”
“I knew exactly what you were worth.”
“Then I went upstairs and behaved as though none of it mattered.”
That was closer.
He continued:
“I used to tell myself you became powerful because I gave you space inside Vale Meridian.”
I almost laughed.
“Generous.”
“I know.”
“But prison gives you time to examine embarrassing beliefs.”
He smiled faintly.
“You gave my family legitimacy.”
“I gave you work.”
“You gave me criticism.”
“You gave me boundaries.”
“And I kept treating those gifts like disrespect.”
He looked down.
“Then I forged the one thing that represented your consent.”
My eyes filled.
Finally.
He understood.
Or understood enough.
“I’m sorry.”
I believed he was sorry.
That did not mean I wanted him back.
“I hope you build something decent when you get out.”
His face tightened.
“You mean that?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I no longer need your suffering to balance mine.”
That was the truth.
I stood.
Adrian did too.
There was glass between us by then.
No hug.
No cinematic kiss.
He touched two fingers to the partition.
I did not.
I simply said:
May you like
“Goodbye, Adrian.”
This time, I meant it.
