Chapter 14 - THE PRICE OF MARRYING ME
Twenty million dollars.
That was what Richard Bennett thought I was worth.
Or what getting rid of me was worth.
Evelyn had learned about the offer from Mark months before he died.
Richard believed I was beneath the Bennett family.
My father repaired air-conditioning systems.
My mother taught third grade.
I had student loans.
No trust fund.
No family corporation.
Richard told Mark marriage to me would “dilute the family.”
Mark asked one question.
“Do I keep the shares if I marry her?”
Richard said no.
Mark smiled.
“Then keep the money.”
Two weeks later, he proposed to me at the cheap Italian restaurant where we had our first date.
I remembered apologizing because I accidentally spilled red wine on his shirt.
He laughed for ten minutes.
I never knew he had walked away from twenty million dollars to sit at that table.
“Why didn’t he tell me?”
Evelyn smiled sadly.
“Because Mark knew you.”
“He knew I’d be angry?”
“He knew you would spend the rest of your marriage trying to prove you hadn’t cost him anything.”
She was right.
That was exactly what I would have done.
I would have worked harder.
Needed less.
Apologized every time we spent money.
Mark refused to let Richard’s cruelty live inside our marriage.
That realization healed something I didn’t know was wounded.
Weeks later, I visited Richard.
Not because I owed him.
Because I wanted the story to end with truth.
He looked smaller behind the visitation glass.
Older.
“You brought Lily?”
“No.”
His face fell.
“You don’t get access to her because you share blood.”
His jaw tightened.
“I’m still her grandfather.”
“You were Mark’s father too.”
That silenced him.
I told him about Second Chance House.
About Plant Four compensation.
About Evelyn reconnecting with Daniel.
About David Reynolds.
Richard stared at the table.
“Mark always thought he could save everybody.”
“No.”
I shook my head.
“He knew he couldn’t.”
Richard looked up.
“He just believed that was no excuse to save nobody.”
For the first time, Richard cried.
Not dramatically.
One tear.
Then another.
“I loved him.”
“I believe you.”
He looked surprised.
“You do?”
“Yes.”
“But love without responsibility can still hurt people.”
His eyes dropped.
Before I left, Richard said:
“Mark left something with me.”
My hand froze on the door.
“What?”
“A letter.”
“For me?”
“No.”
Richard swallowed.
“For Lily.”
“When?”
“The last time he visited.”
“Why didn’t you give it to me?”
His face twisted with shame.
“Because it was the only piece of him I still had.”
He reached beneath the table and handed the guard an envelope.
May you like
On the front, in Mark’s handwriting:
FOR MY DAUGHTER — WHEN HER MOM IS READY.
