Chapter 18 - FATHER AND DAUGHTER
Arthur asked to see me before trial.
I almost refused.
Then I remembered my mother.
Some doors have to be opened before they can finally be closed.
The meeting room had grey walls and one metal table.
Arthur entered wearing prison clothing.
No tailored suit.
No boardroom.
No security.
No empire.
He sat across from me.
“You look like your mother.”
He said.
“People keep telling me that.”
“She hated when people said that.”
“Maybe because she wanted me to become myself.”
Arthur looked down.
“I loved her.”
“No.”
I said.
“You loved possessing her.”
His jaw tightened.
“You don’t understand our marriage.”
“I understand twelve minutes.”
He flinched.
Good.
“She was alive.”
I continued.
“You knew she was alive.”
“Yes.”
“And you waited.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Arthur’s eyes filled.
Not dramatically.
Almost angrily.
“Because she was going to destroy everything.”
“You mean expose everything.”
“At the time, I couldn’t see the difference.”
“That doesn’t answer me.”
Arthur stared at his hands.
“I thought if she lived, she would take you children.”
“So you let her die?”
“No.”
His voice broke.
“I told myself help could wait.”
“For twelve minutes.”
“Yes.”
“Did she speak?”
Arthur closed his eyes.
“One sentence.”
My throat tightened.
“What did she say?”
He hesitated.
“Arthur.”
I leaned forward.
“What did she say?”
His eyes opened.
“She said, ‘Don’t make our children pay for you.’”
I could not breathe.
Arthur began crying.
I had never seen my father cry.
Not at my mother’s funeral.
Not when I left.
Not even when he was arrested.
“I did exactly what she begged me not to do.”
He whispered.
“Yes.”
“I destroyed all three of you.”
“Yes.”
“I told myself it was necessary.”
“Yes.”
“I was wrong.”
I stood.
Arthur looked up.
“Celeste.”
I stopped.
“Will you ever forgive me?”
There are questions people ask because they want peace.
And questions they ask because they want to escape consequences.
I looked at him.
“I don’t know.”
His face crumpled.
“But forgiveness won’t change what happens in court.”
He nodded.
“I know.”
I walked toward the door.
Then Arthur spoke.
“There’s something you don’t know.”
I turned.
“The night your mother died.”
He swallowed.
“She wasn’t the only person who wanted the truth exposed.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Someone helped her copy the records.”
“Samuel?”
“No.”
“Mercer?”
“No.”
Arthur looked directly at me.
“Admiral Reed.”
My blood ran cold.
“You’re lying.”
“Ask him where he was the afternoon before your mother died.”
May you like
I walked out without answering.
But for the first time, I wondered whether Admiral Reed had been connected to my family long before I ever knew his name.
