Chapter 2 - THE DAUGHTER WHO BURIED HER FATHER ALONE
I was thirty-one years old when I buried my father.
And I had never felt smaller.
Thomas Bennett had been a quiet man.
He owned a modest shipping company outside Chicago, wore the same brown leather jacket for twelve winters, and believed every promise should be kept even when keeping it became inconvenient.
He taught me to drive in an old pickup truck.
Taught me how to change a tire.
Taught me that kindness wasn't weakness.
And when I married Vincent Moretti, he was the only person who looked genuinely frightened.
Not because Vincent was powerful.
Because my father knew exactly what that power could cost.
I remembered our last conversation.
He was lying in a hospital bed, his skin pale beneath the fluorescent lights.
“Claire.”
I leaned closer.
“Yes, Dad?”
“Promise me something.”
“Anything.”
He reached toward the bedside drawer.
Inside was a sealed envelope.
Vincent's name was written across it.
“Give him this.”
I frowned.
“What is it?”
“The truth.”
“About what?”
He closed his eyes.
“Something I should have told you years ago.”
I squeezed his hand.
“Dad, you're scaring me.”
He opened his eyes again.
“Don't be afraid of leaving someone who doesn't know how to love you properly.”
Tears filled my eyes.
“Vincent loves me.”
My father looked at me for a long moment.
Then whispered:
“I hope you're right.”
Three days later, he was gone.
And on the morning of his funeral, Vincent chose Sophia Reynolds.
I had spent five years defending my husband.
Making excuses.
Explaining away his absences.
Convincing myself that the woman who had known him since childhood was simply part of his past.
But when I saw him smiling beneath the Ferris wheel while my father's coffin was being lowered into the ground, something inside me stopped fighting.
I didn't scream.
I didn't call him.
I didn't ask him to explain.
I went home.
Changed nothing.
Packed one suitcase.
And called my attorney.
May you like
By the time Vincent opened my father's letter, I was already driving north.
I had no intention of going back.
