“No,” Thaddeus said. “I expect nothing. I hope... I hope you might allow me the chance to prove that I can change. To demonstrate through action rather than words that I am capable of being the husband you deserve and the guardian Oliver needs. But if you refuse—if you tell me to leave and never return—I will accept that decision. Because it is yours to make.”
Maribel’s eyes glistened with unshed tears. “You hurt me,” she whispered. “You made me believe I could trust you, and then you showed me I was a fool for trying.”
“I know.”
“Oliver trusted you. A child who had already lost everything trusted you to keep him safe. And you sent him away.”
“I know.”
“And you expect me to believe that you have somehow changed? That three days of reflection have transformed you into someone capable of genuine feeling?”
“No.” Thaddeus took a careful step forward. “I do not expect you to believe anything. I am asking—begging—for the opportunity to prove it. Not through words or promises, but through sustained action over whatever time you require to see that my change is real.”
She looked away, her jaw tight. “I don’t know if I can do this again. I don’t know if I have the strength to hope and be disappointed.”
“Then don’t hope,” Thaddeus said quietly. “Watch. Judge me by what I do rather than what I say. And if I fail—when I fail, because I will not be perfect—tell me. Allow me to learn from those failures rather than dismissing me entirely.”
Maribel pressed her fingers to her temples. “I need time. I need to think.”
“Of course.” Thaddeus backed toward the door. “Whatever you need. I will return to Blackwood. But first—” He stopped. “First Iam going to Ashford Academy. To bring Oliver home. Where he belongs.”
Her head snapped up. “What?”
“He should never have been sent away. I was wrong to do it. And regardless of what you decide about us, about our marriage, Oliver deserves better than I have given him. He deserves to be with people who love him. Which means he should be with you.”
Tears finally spilled down Maribel’s cheeks. “You’re bringing him back?”
“Yes. Today. And if you wish to be there when he arrives—if you want to be the one he sees first when he comes home—I will arrange it. Because he needs you far more than he needs me. And I should have admitted that months ago.”
Maribel covered her mouth with her hand, her shoulders shaking.
Thaddeus wanted desperately to cross to her. To offer comfort. But he had forfeited that right through his own actions.
“I will write to you,” he said. “To let you know when Oliver will arrive at Blackwood. If you choose to come, you will be welcome. If you choose not to...” He swallowed hard. “Then I will ensure he knows you love him. That you wanted to be there. That my failures are not yours.”
He turned toward the door.
“Thaddeus.”
He stopped, his hand on the doorknob. It was the first time she had used his given name since he arrived.
“Why now?” Her voice was thick with tears. “Why this sudden change? What happened to make you finally see what you were doing?”
Thaddeus turned back to face her. “Julian came. He told me about Oliver. About how he sits alone at school, asking for you. And I realised...” His voice broke. “I realised that I had become exactly what I feared. Not a man destroyed by love. But a man destroyed by the refusal to love. And that the only person I had protected was myself. At the cost of everyone else who mattered.”
Maribel wiped her eyes. “I want to believe you. I want to believe this is real. But I am so tired of being hurt.”
“Then judge me by my actions,” Thaddeus said again. “I am going to bring Oliver home. I am going to be the guardian he deserves—one who shows up, who tries, who admits when he fails and learns from it. And I am going to spend however long it takes proving to both of you that you matter. That you have always mattered.” He paused. “Even if you decide you cannot forgive me. Even if you choose never to return to Blackwood. I will still do these things. Because they are right. And because I should have done them from the beginning.”
The silence stretched between them—fragile and weighted with possibility.
Finally, Maribel nodded.
“Go get Oliver,” she said. “Bring him home. And then...” She drew a shaking breath. “Then we will see.”
Thaddeus bowed his head to hide the hopeful smile from her. “Thank you.”
He turned and left before she could change her mind, his heart pounding, his hands trembling.
