Chapter 10
Andrew closed his eyes and nodded once, slowly.
“Second: the Range Rover. The lease ends in six weeks. The trust will pay the remaining two payments and the turn-in disposition fee. After that, you will provide your own transportation.”
Celeste wiped her eyes with a tissue. “We still have my old Honda in storage. We can get it running.”
“Third: your business,” I continued. “The commercial lease subsidy for your downtown office terminates on January thirty-first. If you cannot afford the rent on your current space, I suggest you break the lease, downsize, or move your operations into your home, exactly like Dad did when he started his contracting company.”
Andrew swallowed hard. “And the girls?”
I looked straight into his bloodshot eyes.
“The girls are innocent. They are my nieces, and they will not pay the price for their father’s vanity. Their tuition at St. Jude’s has been transferred into a restricted educational escrow account managed entirely by Gregory. It is funded through the end of Poppy’s eighth-grade year. Every book, every uniform, every lab fee will be paid directly to the school. You will not have access to that money. You cannot borrow against it. You cannot use it to float payroll. It belongs exclusively to them.”
Andrew let out a long, shuddering breath, resting his forehead in the palm of his hand.
“Why?” he asked, his voice cracking. “After everything I said to you... why protect them?”
“Because Dad loved them,” I replied softly. “And because I love them. I never wanted to punish your children, Andrew. I just refused to keep financing the lie that was poisoning you.”
I stood up from the table, buttoning my charcoal jacket.
“The vendor bills from the gala have been paid. You owe nothing for the party. Consider it my final gift to your social career. What you do with the rest of your life from this moment on is entirely up to you.”
I turned toward the door.
“Meredith, wait,” Celeste called out.
I stopped with my hand on the brass handle and looked back.
Celeste had stood up. She wasn't looking at Andrew. She was looking at me with a mixture of raw grief and genuine respect.
“The gifts,” Celeste whispered, her voice trembling. “The ones Andrew handed back to you on Friday. What were they?”
A faint, sad smile touched my lips.
“Two books,” I said. “And two wooden stars. Carved by Dad before he died. He made them for Maisie and Poppy so they would always have something steady to hold onto when the world got cold.”