Chapter 11
Colin was easier.
He never pretended love explained him.
He wanted stability.
Money.
Marriage.
Control.
He had convinced Imogen that returning Lila would destroy their lives.
Maybe true.
It did.
Good.
He asked for access to restored family accounts.
No.
Asked whether his role could remain separate from the concealment.
No.
He had maintained the false death records inside the family, controlled the reverted trust funds, paid properties from them, and blocked staff who asked questions.
He was not passive husband.
He was infrastructure.
“You’re destroying Imogen too.”
I looked at him.
“No.”
“She has nothing now.”
“She has her life.”
“No husband.”
Interesting.
I had not ordered divorce.
Imogen had left him.
Why?
Because she learned something.
Colin had known Margaret intended to send Lila permanently abroad at age five.
Imogen did not.
He agreed.
That was the breaking point.
She could rationalize hiding Lila near her.
Not losing her entirely.
Again.
Possession.
Not freedom.
Still, it broke the marriage.
Colin blamed me.
Fine.
He lost every Harrington role.
Personal property remained.
No family funds.
No authority.
No access to the girls.
He called it exile.
I called it distance.
Then he said:
“Lila will hate you someday when she understands you didn’t look for her.”
That hurt.
Because maybe.
I had accepted death too easily.
Not emotionally.
Factually.
No body viewed.
No burial checked.
No questions after chaos.
Why?
Because I trusted family.
Because grief makes people accept closed doors.
That was mine.
I would not rewrite myself as innocent.
I was deceived.
I also failed to verify.
Both.
May you like
One day Lila might ask.
I would tell her.
