Chapter 13 - THE MAN NOAH CALLED UNCLE VICTOR
Noah did not meet Victor.
Not then.
Adrian made that decision easily after speaking with his therapist and Noah’s child counselor.
Six years old was too young to carry an adult’s need for closure.
Adrian met Victor alone.
I did not attend.
I did not ask to.
When Adrian returned two hours later, he looked tired.
“What happened?”
“He apologized.”
“Did you believe him?”
“Some of it.”
That answer surprised me.
Victor admitted he began using trust money because he believed the family’s assets were “interchangeable.”
He told himself successful investments justified unauthorized decisions.
Then the profits grew.
So did his entitlement.
By the time Celeste confronted him, admitting the truth meant losing his reputation, board position, and possibly Adrian.
So he lied.
Then lied again.
“Did he love you?” I asked.
Adrian sat beside me.
“I think he did.”
“And?”
“That didn't stop him from hurting me.”
I nodded.
Adrian had learned the same painful truth many people spend their entire lives avoiding.
Love does not automatically make someone safe.
Victor surrendered his board shares into a managed trust.
Northstar returned assets.
Noah’s trust recovered substantially more than the original transferred principal because several investments had appreciated.
Adrian refused to celebrate.
“This money was always his.”
Noah, of course, had no concept of hundreds of millions.
He cared more about whether Gerald’s Brave Kids could buy video-game consoles for hospital waiting rooms.
Adrian said yes.
Noah immediately attempted to order forty.
We reduced that number.
Meanwhile, my work exploded.
The VP role took me to London, Toronto, and Chicago.
For the first time, Adrian was the one adjusting his schedule around mine.
One night, I returned from a four-day trip and found Noah asleep on the sofa.
Adrian was working beside him.
“You let him wait up?”
“He staged a protest.”
“Against bedtime?”
“Against Canada.”
I laughed.
Then Noah woke.
“Emma!”
He launched himself at me.
I caught him.
“You're heavy.”
“You were gone forever.”
“Four days.”
“Forever.”
Adrian watched us.
Something in his face made my chest ache.
After Noah returned to bed, Adrian handed me wine.
“I want to ask you something.”
“If this is about moving in—”
“No.”
“Marriage?”
His silence gave him away.
I almost dropped the glass.
He immediately raised both hands.
“Not now.”
I laughed nervously.
“Good opening.”
“I mean eventually.”
I sat down.
Adrian looked terrified.
The man who negotiated billion-dollar deals without blinking looked terrified to discuss marriage with me.
“I won't propose unless I know you're open to it.”
I stared.
“That is the least cinematic thing a billionaire has ever said.”
“Answer.”
“Yes.”
He stopped breathing.
“Eventually.”
He smiled.
“Eventually.”
Then I added:
“And I am not wearing Celeste's ring.”
His expression softened.
“I would never ask you to.”
Good.
That mattered.
Celeste was not a template.
I was not a sequel.
Two months later, Margaret invited me to lunch alone.
She handed me a small package.
Inside was not jewelry.
It was another letter.
Celeste again.
I laughed helplessly.
“How many letters did this woman write?”
“A lot.”
The envelope said:
FOR ADRIAN'S FUTURE WIFE, IF HE IS LUCKY ENOUGH TO HAVE ONE.
I stared at Margaret.
“I’m not his wife.”
“No.”
She smiled.
“But I think you're getting there.”
The letter contained one request.
Not about Adrian.
Not about Noah.
About Celeste herself.
Please make sure they are allowed to remember me happily. Grief has had enough time being the loudest thing in our home.
I cried in Margaret’s arms.
That evening, I told Adrian.
He listened.
Then said:
“I think I'm ready.”
“For what?”
“To remember her without feeling like I'm betraying you.”
My heart broke and healed at the same time.
Then he reached into his pocket.
I stared.
“Adrian.”
He smiled.
“You said eventually.”
May you like
He opened a ring box.
“But you never specified how long eventually was.”
