Chapter 15
Two years after the failed wedding, Cassian took Elodie to Halifax.
Not because of Adrian.
Not because of Sabine.
Because Elodie had become fascinated with the photograph.
She wanted to stand where her mother had stood.
Rebecca thought the trip might be emotionally difficult.
Cassian knew it would be.
They went anyway.
No private jet.
Cassian deliberately booked an ordinary first-class commercial flight.
Elodie complained about waiting in the airport.
That made him strangely happy.
Normal inconvenience was a luxury he had once underestimated.
At the harbor, the wind was stronger than Elodie expected.
She held Cassian’s hand with both of hers.
They found the railing.
The hotel behind it had been renovated, but the basic shape remained.
Cassian took Claire’s framed photograph from his bag.
Elodie held it beside the real view.
“Mommy here.”
“Yes.”
“She was pretty.”
“She was.”
“You miss her?”
“Every day.”
Elodie studied the picture.
Then pointed toward the tiny reflection.
“Is that Adrian?”
Cassian looked down at her.
She was five now.
Old enough to notice more.
“Yes.”
“And Sabine?”
“Yes.”
Elodie stared at them.
“She knew Mommy before us.”
Before us.
Children created timelines differently.
Cassian crouched beside her.
“Sabine knew your mother before she told us she did.”
“Why lie?”
Cassian took a moment.
“Because she and Adrian had done something wrong, and your mom found out.”
“What wrong?”
“Money. Lying. Things you’ll understand better when you’re older.”
Elodie nodded.
Then asked the question Cassian had expected eventually.
“Did Sabine love me?”
The harbor seemed to become quieter.
That was the one question the courts had not answered.
Accounting records could show fraud.
Flight manifests could show intent.
Security footage could show actions.
No document could establish what Sabine had felt while reading Elodie bedtime stories.
Cassian remembered Sabine’s letter.
I loved Elodie too. Those facts do not become noble because they became true later.
He could tell Elodie Sabine never cared.
That would be simpler.
It would also be a lie.
“I think she did.”
Elodie looked confused.
“Then why suitcase?”
Cassian felt the question in his chest.
“Because loving somebody doesn’t automatically make every choice you make good.”
Elodie stared at the water.
“That’s stupid.”
Cassian smiled sadly.
“Yes.”
They stood there for another few minutes.
Then Elodie asked a tourist to take their picture.
Cassian nearly refused out of habit.
Then handed over the phone.
Elodie stood where Claire once had.
Cassian beside her.
Harbor behind them.
No hidden figures mattered this time.
Later, back at the hotel, Rebecca forwarded Cassian an unexpected message.
Sabine had completed the first major portion of her sentence and would eventually become eligible for supervised correspondence under terms determined by Elodie’s guardians and therapists.
She was not requesting contact now.
Her attorney simply wanted Cassian to know that she had written several letters to Elodie and placed them with counsel.
They would remain sealed unless Elodie wanted them someday.
Cassian stared at the message.
Elodie was asleep in the other room with Claire’s photograph beside her.
He could destroy the possibility now.
Tell the attorney never to contact him again.
Protect Elodie from another complicated adult.
For several minutes, that was exactly what he wanted to do.
Then he remembered what the entire story had taught him.
Protection was not the same thing as controlling every future choice.
So Cassian gave Rebecca one instruction.
“Keep them sealed.”
“For how long?”
“Until Elodie is old enough to decide.”
He put the phone down.
Nothing else remained unresolved.
Adrian had faced consequences.
Sabine had faced consequences.
The kidnapping plan had failed.
The financial fraud had been exposed.
Claire’s work had been completed.
Elodie was safe.
Only one question remained.
Someday, when Elodie understood the full contradiction of a woman who had cared for her and still agreed to use her as leverage, would she want to read Sabine’s letters?
May you like
Cassian would not choose for her.
This time, the final decision would belong to his daughter.
