“I own the debt your firm buried in subsidiaries.”
Garrett’s eyes widened.
“And as of tonight, I own every secret you were foolish enough to create while using my daughter’s loyalty as a shield.”
For the first time, Garrett truly looked terrified.
“You wouldn’t.”
My father tilted his head.
“You let my grandson die asking for you.”
Garrett’s voice cracked. “It wasn’t my fault.”
“No,” I said quietly. “The asthma attack wasn’t your fault.”
He looked at me, relief flickering.
Then I finished.
“But being absent was.”
His relief died.
Hospital security appeared at the end of the hallway. Two men in dark uniforms, calm and professional.
My father did not look at them.
“Escort Mr. Vale out.”
Garrett spun toward me. “Claire, don’t do this. Please. Let me see Ethan. Just once. I’m begging you.”
For one agonizing second, I nearly broke.
Because Ethan loved him.
My sweet boy had loved his father with the blind faith only children possess. He had drawn Garrett with a cape in crayon. He had saved half his pancakes for him on mornings Garrett didn’t show. He had believed every “next time, buddy” because children think promises are real.
But then I remembered Ethan’s last whisper.
Daddy coming?
And I remembered the lie I told because Garrett had made the truth too cruel for a dying child.
“No,” I said. “You don’t get to say goodbye after making him wait.”
Garrett’s face collapsed.
Security stepped in.
