PART 13:
The detective kit in the toy store window. That was you, wasn’t it? It showed up at my apartment yesterday with no return address. Victoria had ordered it the day after the Christmas concert before everything exploded. Emma deserves nice things. She deserves honesty more than expensive toys. I know. Ryan nodded slowly.
Then he walked away back toward his daughter and his sister and his real life. Victoria stood alone on the trail as the temperature dropped and the sky darkened. She’d found Emma. She’d gotten to say what she needed to say to Ryan, and she’d lost them both anyway. Victoria didn’t hear from Ryan for a week.
7 days of silence that felt like seven years. She went to work, attended meetings, made decisions that affected thousands of people and millions of dollars. None of it mattered. At night, she’d sit in her penthouse and stare at her phone. No texts, no calls, nothing. Sarah tried to distract her, invited her to dinner, to yoga classes, to anything that might get her out of the apartment.
Victoria declined everything. She felt like she was waiting for a verdict she already knew. On the eighth day, Michelle showed up at Victoria’s office. The receptionist called up, confused. There’s a Michelle Mercer here to see you. She doesn’t have an appointment. Victoria’s stomach dropped. Send her up. Michelle arrived 5 minutes later, looking out of place in the gleaming tech office.
She wore jeans and a teacher’s cardigan, her hair pulled back in a practical ponytail. Every eye in the office followed her as Victoria led her to a private conference room. “How did you find me?” Victoria asked once the door was closed. “Google, you’re not exactly hard to find once someone knows your real name.
” Michelle sat down, folded her hands on the table. “Nice office, very expensive.” “Michelle, I’m not here to yell at you. I already did that over text. I’m here because my brother is miserable. My niece cries every night asking when you’re coming back and someone needs to fix this. Victoria sat down heavily. I don’t think it can be fixed.
Everything can be fixed. The question is whether you’re willing to do the work. Ryan doesn’t want to see me. Ryan doesn’t know what he wants. He’s scared. Michelle leaned forward. Do you know what he did after you left the other day? Victoria shook her head. He came to my house and cried for 3 hours.
He told me about the lying, about the fake identity, about all of it. And you know what he said at the end? What he said? He understood why you did it. Michelle’s voice was sharp. My brother, who you lied to for 3 months, said he understood because he’s a good man. Too good, probably. And he’s trying to decide if understanding why you did it is enough reason to forgive you for doing it.
Victoria felt tears threatening. What do you want me to do? I want you to tell me if you actually love him or if this was just some rich person’s game that got out of hand. I love him. I love both of them. Then prove it. How? Michelle stood up. That’s not my job to figure out, but I’ll tell you this.
Emma asked me yesterday if being rich meant you couldn’t be in our family. She wanted to know if there was a rule against it. Victoria’s chest hurt. What did you tell her? I told her there’s no rule. I told her that families come in all shapes and sizes, and sometimes they include people who are different from us. Michelle headed for the door, paused with her hand on the handle.
Emma’s Christmas concert is this Friday, 7:00 at the elementary school. Ryan will be there. So will I. If you show up, I won’t stop you. But if you’re going to show up, you better be ready to fight for them because that little girl has been through enough and she deserves someone who will stay. Michelle left.
Victoria sat alone in the conference room for a long time. The concert was in 3 days. She could go. Could show up and try to talk to Ryan again. Could try to prove she was serious. Or she could stay away. Let them heal without her. Stop making everything worse. Victoria pulled out her phone, opened her photos. She deleted most of the pictures she’d taken as Tori, trying to erase the evidence of her deception, but she’d kept a few.
Emma showing her a book. Ryan laughing at something off camera. The three of them at the park, Emma hanging between them, holding both their hands. Victoria had spent 2 years looking for someone who would love her for who she was. But she’d never shown Ryan who she actually was.
She’d hidden behind Tory Brennan, and when the mask came off, he was left with a stranger. If she was going to fix this, she needed to show him the real Victoria. Not the CEO, not the billionaire, not the test giver, just her, flawed and scared and desperately in love with a mechanic and his daughter. For the first time in a week, Victoria felt something other than despair. She felt purpose.
She called Sarah. I need your help. The next two days were a blur. Victoria worked with Sarah to put together something she should have done from the beginning. the truth. Not the sanitized version, not the justification, just the raw, honest truth about who she was and why she’d done what she’d done.
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