Chapter 14 - THE LAST CONVERSATION
Before sentencing, Adrian requested one meeting with me.
My attorney advised against it.
Marcus said the decision was mine.
I agreed under controlled conditions.
We met in a secure interview room separated by a glass partition.
Adrian wore a plain detention uniform.
Without the tailored suits, hospital badge, and attentive crowds, he looked smaller.
For several seconds, neither of us spoke.
Then he lifted the phone.
I did the same.
“You got what you wanted,” he said.
“No.”
“What else could you possibly want?”
“I wanted the truth before anyone died.”
His jaw tightened.
“You think you are different from me now because you sit in my boardroom?”
“It was never your boardroom.”
“I built that program.”
“You stole from it.”
“I made St. Catherine’s internationally respected.”
“You also made patients pay for your ambition.”
He looked away.
“Richard will leave soon.”
“Yes.”
“And you will take his place?”
“No.”
He appeared surprised.
“You did all this and you still refuse the chairmanship?”
“I did not expose you to inherit power.”
“Everyone wants power.”
“You wanted control.”
“There is a difference.”
Adrian leaned closer to the glass.
“Did you ever love me?”
The question might have broken me a year earlier.
Now it only made me sad.
“Yes.”
“Then how could you testify?”
“Because loving someone does not require protecting what they do to others.”
“I would have fixed everything.”
“You had years.”
“I was under pressure.”
“So were the patients.”
He closed his eyes.
For a moment, I saw the young medical student I had once known.
He had been exhausted, frightened, and determined to matter.
Somewhere along the way, the desire to matter became the belief that no one else did.
“I never thought Samuel would actually damage your car,” he said.
“The recording says otherwise.”
“I was angry.”
“You were clear.”
“I could not lose everything.”
“So you decided I could.”
He had no answer.
I removed my wedding ring from my finger.
The divorce had been finalized two weeks earlier.
I placed the ring on the small ledge beneath the glass.
“I do not want this returned to your family.”
Adrian stared at it.
“My grandmother gave you that.”
“She gave it to the woman she believed you would honor.”
He looked at me.
“What happens to me now?”
“That is for the judge.”
“What happens to us?”
“There is no us.”
His face tightened.
I expected anger.
Instead, I saw fear.
For years, Adrian had believed I would always remain somewhere behind him.
Supporting him.
Defending him.
Absorbing the consequences of his choices.
My departure was the one outcome he had never prepared for.
I stood.
“Claire.”
I paused.
“Do you forgive me?”
I thought about the vial.
The car.
The patients.
The cold marble beneath my hands.
“Forgiveness is not the same as permission to return.”
“That is not an answer.”
“It is the only one you are getting.”
May you like
I hung up the phone and walked out.
I did not look back.
