Victor's jaw tightens. “She's being held. Psychiatric evaluation, then criminal charges. Attempted murder, kidnapping, fraud. The list is long.” He exhales slowly. “Keeping the press away from this has been a nightmare. I'm cleaning house. Anyone who was loyal to her is gone.”
Ruthless. Efficient. Classic Victor.
“The shares,” I say. “The ones I signed over.”
“Invalid. Signed under duress. My lawyers have already handled it.”
I nod slowly. “And yours? The ones she made you sign?”
“Same.” His eyes meet mine. “Everything is back where it belongs.”
Where it belongs. His empire, intact. His control, restored.
“I don't want them,” I say quietly.
Victor blinks. “What?”
“The shares. My fifteen percent. I don't want them.” I lean forward, elbows on my knees. “I meant what I said in that warehouse. I'm not interested in Hammond Industries. I have ELK. I have my own life. I don't need your legacy.”
His expression is unreadable. One hand clenches around the laptop.
“You're serious.”
“Completely.”
He sighs. When he speaks again, his voice is different. Softer. “I've been thinking about what you said. About choosing your own family.”
I wait.
“I was never good at being a father.” He says it plainly, without excuse. “I didn't know how. My own father was worse, if you can believe it. I thought giving you what I never had was enough. Opportunities, connections, a name. I didn't understand what you actually needed.”
“What I needed was a dad.” The words come out rougher than I intend. “Not a CEO.”
Victor nods slowly. “I know. I know that now.” He pauses, hand moving to his wounded shoulder. “When Helena called and said you were hurt... I didn't think. I just moved. I would have driven into a wall to get to you.”
“Why?”
“Because you're my son.” He says it simply, like it's obvious. Like it explains everything. “I've done a lot of things wrong, Alexander. More than I can count. I never stopped caring about you. I just didn't know how to show it when you started challenging me.”
The words hit something deep. Something I've been protecting for years.
“That doesn't fix everything,” I say quietly.
“No. It doesn't.” Victor meets my eyes. “I'd like the chance to try. If you'll let me.”
I think about Emma's words. A place to start.
“I'm not ready to forgive you,” I say honestly. “I don't know if I ever will be. But I'm willing to... try. To get to know each other. The real versions, not the ones we've been performing.”
Victor's throat works as he swallows. He nods once, sharply.
“That's more than I deserve.”
“Probably.”
Something that might be a smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. “You're stubborn. You get that from me.”
“I get a lot of things from you.” I push myself to my feet, cast thumping against the floor. “Not all of them good.”
