Chapter 14
Marcus died the following year.
Natural causes.
No final confession.
No reconciliation.
No cinematic closure.
I attended the funeral.
Not because he deserved honor from me.
Because Delilah asked.
She stood beside Conrad.
They barely spoke.
Interesting.
Afterward Conrad approached.
“You got what you wanted.”
I looked at him.
“What?”
“Dad gone. Circle gone. Me gone.”
He sounded like a child.
I almost pitied him.
Almost.
“Your father died.”
“Yes.”
“That is not my victory.”
He looked away.
Then:
“He really thought you were ruining the family.”
“I know.”
“He wasn’t pretending.”
“I know.”
That was important.
People do terrible things while sincerely believing they protect something.
Sincerity does not sanitize consequence.
Conrad asked if Owen remembered Marcus.
“Barely.”
That hurt him.
Good or bad?
Neither.
Just time.
Then Delilah gave me a small envelope.
Not for Owen.
For me.
Inside was Marcus’s handwritten note.
Roman protects the child too much. The boy will rule him before he rules anything else.
I stared.
Even dying, same framework.
Every relationship as hierarchy.
If I care for Owen, he rules me.
If I set limits, I rule him.
No room for mutual trust.
I folded the note.
Threw it away.
Delilah watched.
“You don’t want to keep it?”
“No.”
“History?”
“Not every sentence deserves preservation.”
That surprised her.
Good.
Families like ours archive poison because age makes it look important.
Sometimes garbage is garbage.
We left the funeral.
No lesson.
May you like
No forgiveness.
Just one generation ending without winning the argument.
