Chapter 15
Dominic faced Daniel last.
He had already met the tailor.
The florist.
The café owner.
The watchmaker.
Every conversation stripped away another excuse.
Daniel was different.
Because Elise was dead.
There was no apology Dominic could give her.
They stood inside Vance Bakery before opening.
Maeve was upstairs.
I stayed by the door.
Dominic looked at the returned industrial oven.
Then at Daniel.
“I threatened your wife.”
Daniel said nothing.
“I knew she was sick.”
Silence.
“I knew she had Sofia’s books.”
Daniel’s jaw tightened.
“I wanted the corner.”
Still silence.
Dominic struggled.
Good.
No speech should be easy enough to feel cleansing.
“I told myself the business would die with her anyway.”
Daniel’s face changed.
There.
The ugliest truth.
Dominic continued.
“So I thought taking it early was just efficient.”
Daniel finally spoke.
“She baked the week before she died.”
Dominic looked at him.
“She could barely stand. Still baked Maeve’s birthday cake.”
His voice shook.
“You decided her life was already over because that made stealing easier.”
Dominic lowered his eyes.
“Yes.”
Daniel walked away for several seconds.
Then came back.
“I don’t forgive you.”
Dominic nodded.
“I know.”
“Good.”
That was all.
No handshake.
No dramatic reconciliation.
Outside, Dominic looked at me.
“What now?”
“You live.”
He seemed surprised.
“With what?”
I looked back through the bakery window.
Daniel was preparing dough.
“With knowing.”
That is heavier than some punishments.
Dominic had spent years converting human pain into numbers.
Now the numbers had names.
Faces.
Dead wives.
Children.
Maybe he would change.
Maybe not.
I was done confusing potential with redemption.
Maeve ran downstairs carrying a paper bag.
She handed it to me.
“One roll.”
I gave her a coin.
She inspected it.
“Not last one.”
“No.”
She smiled.
May you like
Good.
She had more now.
