Chapter 14
The new suit began with scraps.
Not because I had to use them.
Because Sabrina asked.
“I don’t want the old one erased,” she said. “I want proof it didn’t end there.”
So we cut the ruined fabric into usable pieces.
Small panels.
Inner lining.
Hidden pockets.
The outside would be new dark wool.
The inside would carry what survived.
Sabrina came every afternoon.
At first, she was clumsy.
She pricked her finger twice and apologized like she had broken something expensive.
“It’s fabric,” I told her.
“It matters to you.”
“Yes. But people matter more.”
She looked at me for a long time.
“I wish I learned that sooner.”
“So do I.”
That was how we spoke now.
Kind.
Honest.
No pretending.
Logan returned in June.
He asked to meet me privately.
We sat in the empty pavilion.
The same room where the wedding collapsed.
He looked at the arch, now bare.
“I hated you for a day,” he said.
“I understand.”
“I thought if you hadn’t exposed it publicly, maybe I could have held onto something.”
I waited.
“Then I realized you didn’t break the truth. You stopped the lie from becoming legal.”
“That’s one way to say it.”
He smiled sadly.
“I’m in therapy.”
“Good.”
“Sabrina?”
“Also.”
He nodded.
“I don’t think we can be family.”
“No one is asking that.”
“But we are related.”
“Yes.”
He rubbed his face.
“I don’t know what to do with that.”
“Neither does she.”
We sat in silence.
Then he said, “I sold the ring.”
“I heard.”
“The money went to the legal fund.”
“That was good.”
He looked at me.
“Do you still think of her as your daughter?”
The question surprised me.
“Yes.”
“Even after what she said?”
“Yes.”
He nodded slowly.
“I hope Lydia feels that way about me.”
“She does.”
His eyes filled.
“I know. I just need to believe it.”
I understood.
Love after betrayal takes repetition.
Back at the workshop, Martin continued helping investigators.
His father tried to bargain by exposing larger clients.
Names surfaced.
Judges.
Doctors.
Private attorneys.
One retired state official.
The case became a storm.
Victoria sent one message through her lawyer.
Sabrina should remember who made her beautiful.
Sabrina read it.
Then deleted it.
No tears.
No reply.
That night, she stitched the blue button inside my new jacket.
Hidden near the heart.
“Too sentimental?” she asked.
“Just sentimental enough.”
May you like
She smiled.
For the first time in months, it reached her eyes.
