Chapter 10
Vivian’s recordings contained more.
Not about Elspeth.
About me.
I almost preferred the conspiracy.
One note from a month before her death:
“Ronan thinks protecting us means deciding what we don’t need to know.”
I stopped the recording.
Played it again.
Painful.
Accurate.
I had hidden threat reports from Vivian.
Moved her without explaining why.
Changed Caspian’s nanny schedule without discussing it.
Called it protection.
Dorian benefited because my habits already trained the household to accept unexplained security decisions.
Elspeth benefited because Vivian had spent years being told not to worry about operational things.
I had created the environment where two people could manipulate fear without my wife having a clear path into the information.
Not guilt for her death.
Responsibility for culture.
Different.
I continued listening.
Vivian said:
“If Caspian grows up thinking love means someone else gets to decide what risks he’s allowed to understand, we failed him.”
I closed my eyes.
My wife had been dead two years and was still correcting me.
Typical.
From then on, changes involving Caspian became explainable in child-sized language.
Not every detail.
Enough.
If security moved us, he knew why in simple terms.
If food was checked, he knew it was because his body needed certain things avoided.
No shame.
No mystery.
No “just trust me.”
Trust should survive questions.
May you like
That lesson came too late for Vivian.
Not for him.
