Chapter 13 - THE WOMAN VINCENT COULD NOT BUY
Vincent asked to meet me six months after the funeral.
I agreed.
We met in a quiet restaurant overlooking Lake Michigan.
He looked older.
Tired.
The confidence that once filled every room had softened into something almost unfamiliar.
“Claire.”
I nodded.
“Vincent.”
He stood when I approached.
I sat across from him.
For a moment, neither spoke.
Then he said:
“I'm sorry.”
I looked at him.
He continued.
“For the funeral.”
Silence.
“For Sophia.”
I lowered my eyes.
“For every time I made you feel less important than someone else.”
His voice broke.
“I don't expect you to forgive me.”
I took a breath.
“Good.”
He nodded.
Then pushed a folder toward me.
Inside were financial documents.
A settlement proposal.
A house.
Investments.
Enough money to live comfortably for the rest of my life.
I closed the folder.
“Vincent.”
He looked up.
“I don't want you to think I'm buying you.”
I smiled sadly.
“Then don't.”
His eyes filled.
I continued.
“I want a fair divorce.”
He nodded.
“And I want my father's name cleared.”
“Yes.”
“And I want you to understand something.”
He looked at me.
“You didn't lose me because of Sophia.”
His expression tightened.
“You lost me because when I needed you most, you decided my grief didn't matter.”
Vincent closed his eyes.
May you like
Then whispered:
“I know.”
