Chapter 7 - The Reckoning of the Past
By 2:00 PM, the Whitmores were gone.
The press release issued by Bellamy Global announced a quiet, mutual restructuring: the Whitmore Investment Group had divested its shares, the wedding was officially canceled due to irreconcilable personal differences, and Rowan Bellamy retained absolute, unassailable control of the corporation.
I sat alone in my massive corner office, looking out at the skyline of Nashville. The sun had finally broken through the rain clouds, casting long, brilliant beams of golden light across the city.
My phone buzzed on the mahogany desk. It was a text message from an unknown number.
I picked it up and opened the screen.
“Rowan. It’s Richard—Maren’s father.”
My heart stopped.
Richard Vance (no relation to the investigator) was a retired high school history teacher—a quiet, honorable man who had always treated me with kindness during my marriage to Maren. When I threw Maren out, Richard had called me once, begging me to listen to his daughter. I had hung up on him, telling him his daughter was a disgraced cheat.
I immediately dialed the number back. He answered on the second ring.
"Rowan," Richard said, his voice deep, aged, and laced with a quiet, solemn gravity.
"Richard," I choked out, tears instantly rising to my eyes. "Richard, I... I don't even know how to begin to apologize to you."
"I heard what happened today," Richard said gently. "Maren called me from the farmhouse. She told me you found the truth. She told me you met Ethan and Clara."
"I cleared her name, Richard," I sobbed into the phone, pressing my hand against my eyes. "I got rid of the people who did this. But I know that doesn't undo what I did to your family. I spoke to you like you were garbage. I ruined your daughter's life..."
"Rowan," Richard interrupted softly. "When you threw Maren out, I wanted to kill you. I wanted to come to your office and rip you apart with my bare hands. You broke my daughter's heart, and you made her feel like she was worthless."
"I know," I wept. "I know."
"But," Richard continued, taking a slow breath, "Maren told me something else today. She told me that when you came to her porch last night, you didn't come with lawyers. You didn't come with demands. You came on your knees, crying for your children, acknowledging your own sickness."
He paused, the silence stretching across the line for several long seconds.
"My daughter is a stronger woman than you ever deserved, Rowan," Richard said quietly. "She spent ten months building a life out of nothing because she loved those babies more than her own comfort. If she is willing to give you a chance to earn your way back into their lives... then I will not stand in the way. But mark my words, son: if you ever break her heart again, no amount of money in the world will save you from me."
"I swear on my life, Richard," I promised, my voice ringing with total sincerity. "I will spend the rest of my days protecting her and those children."
"Good," Richard said. "Because they’re having chicken stew for dinner at six o'clock. You’d better not be late."
I hung up the phone, wiped the tears from my eyes, and stood up from my desk.
May you like
I looked around my grand, luxurious office—the Italian leather couches, the priceless artwork, the sweeping views of the financial district—and realized none of it meant anything. None of it had ever brought me real peace.
I grabbed my coat, locked my office door, and walked out to my car.
