Chapter 7 - THE HUSBAND WHO NEVER ASKED HER TO CHANGE
Victor's world frightened Harper sometimes.
Not because he was cruel to her.
Because she knew what people said about him.
The waterfront.
The old partnerships.
The violence that had followed his father's generation.
Victor didn't pretend the rumors were all false.
He admitted he'd inherited businesses entangled with criminal activity.
And that separating them had become the most difficult work of his life.
One evening, Harper found him in his study.
He was staring at a photograph of his father.
“What's wrong?” she asked.
Victor looked up.
“Nothing you need to carry.”
Harper approached.
“That's not what marriage means.”
He smiled sadly.
“I know.”
She sat beside him.
“Then tell me.”
Victor took a breath.
“My father believed fear was the only reliable form of loyalty.”
Harper looked at him.
“And you?”
He shook his head.
“I used to.”
She took his hand.
“What changed?”
Victor looked at her.
“You.”
Harper's eyes filled.
He continued:
“You walked into a hospital waiting room and offered a stranger your chair.”
He smiled faintly.
“You didn't know my name.”
She laughed softly.
“No.”
“And you didn't care.”
Harper squeezed his hand.
“Why would I?”
May you like
Victor looked at her.
“Because everyone else did.”
