Chapter 166 #166

Chapter 166 #166
Chapter 166
~Shailyn’s POV~
The drive to the facility was the longest forty minutes of my life. I’d spent the morning staring at my reflection in the mirror, wondering if I’d finally lost my mind. Visiting Dante wasn’t on my to-do list for the year, or the decade, but something in me needed to close the door. It will be good to have a closure. 

I’d sent Hannah a quick text before leaving. 

Me: Heading to see Dante. I need to finish this. Don’t worry. Enjoy your day out with Luke.

Hannah: Shailyn, are you sure? You don't owe that monster a second of your peace. 

Me: I know. That’s exactly why I’m going. To take the rest of it back. Enjoy yourself. Talk soon.

I tucked my phone away as the gates of the private medical facility buzzed open. This wasn’t the prison, not technically, but with the high walls and the clinical silence, it felt like one. 

When the orderly led me into the visiting room, I actually stopped in my tracks.

The man sitting at the small, head down table wasn't the Dante Belmar I remembered. The arrogance that usually radiated off him  was gone. He looked skeletal, his skin a translucent, sickly pale that made his features look like bruises against his face. 

No more designer clothes. Just something close to a rag.

"Shailyn," he rasped. His voice was thin, lacking its usual roughness and deepness.

I sat down across from him, keeping my bag in my lap. I wanted to feel something, pity, maybe, or even the old familiar spark of rage. But looking at him, I realized I had nothing left for him. No heat, no hate. Just a cold, clinical observation of a broken man.

"You look terrible, Dante," I said, my voice level.

He let out a dry, hacking cough that shook his thin shoulders. "Honest as always. I suppose I deserve that." He looked down at his hands, which were trembling slightly on the tabletop. "I didn't think you'd come."

"I almost didn't. But I figured if this was the end of the road, I should see the crash for myself."

Dante looked up, and for a second, I saw a flicker of the old him, the insecurity that had always driven his cruelty. "It isn't the end. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking, Shailyn. About the company. About my father. About... us."

"There is no 'us,' Dante. There never was. There was just your obsession with a legacy you didn't earn."

"I know," he said, and to my horror, his eyes began to well up. "I know I was... difficult. I was pressured. Tyler expected so much, and Dwayne was always the golden son, and you….you were always better than me at everything. I hated you for it. But I see now how wrong I was."

He reached across the table, his fingers twitching as if he wanted to touch my hand. I pulled back instinctively, the memory of his control making my skin crawl.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, a tear finally tracking down his hollow cheek. "I am so, wholeheartedly sorry for everything, Shailyn. The manipulation, the threats... I was sick. But I'm better now. I've realized that life is too short for this bitterness."

I watched him. He sounded sincere but there was something that was making me doubt too.

"And that’s why," he continued, his voice gaining a delusional sort of strength, "I’ve decided to forgive you."

I froze. I actually felt my jaw drop. "You... what?"

Dante nodded, a small sickly sweet smile touching his lips. "I forgive you for taking the company. For turning the board against me. For the way you treated me. I’m ready to put it all behind us. We’re family, after all. We can find a way to work together again. I can help you.."

A sound escaped my throat, a sharp, jagged burst of laughter that echoed off the thick walls. 

Dante flinched. "What's so funny?"

"You," I said, leaning forward, the laughter dying into a cold, hard smile. "You are unbelievable. I actually sat here for a second thinking you might have changed. That maybe hitting rock bottom had finally knocked some sense into that entitled head of yours."

"I'm trying to be the bigger person."

"You're trying to be the same toxic person you've always been!" I snapped, my voice rising. "You 'forgive' me? For what? For surviving you? For taking back what my father built while you and Tyler tried to burn it down for sport?"

Dante’s face twisted. The "pale, repentant" act began to crack, revealing the ugly ambition underneath. "I am a Belmar! I am the CEO."

"You’re a patient in a psych ward, Dante. And you’re not my family." I stood up, smoothing my coat with trembling hands, not from fear, but from the sheer absurdity of the moment. "Nothing holds us together. Not the name, not the company, and certainly not your delusional 'forgiveness.' I’ve found peace. I have a husband who actually loves me, daughters who will never know your brand of cruelty, and a life I finally deserve.”

Dante’s eyes went wide, turning a dark, manic shade of red. He stood up so fast his chair screeched across the linoleum and tipped over.

"You bitch!" he screamed, his voice cracking. "You think you're better than me? You're nothing! You're a placeholder! Everything you have belongs to me!"

He began to pace the small area, his movements erratic and jerky. He punched the palm of his hand, then suddenly swiped a plastic water pitcher off a nearby tray, sending it crashing against the wall. 

"I'll take it all back!" he shrieked, throwing a full-blown tantrum that looked more like a toddler than a grown man. "I'll break you, Shailyn! I'll make sure you have nothing!"

He started sobbing and shouting simultaneously, his mental state deteriorating right in front of me. The orderly rushed in, grabbing Dante’s arms as he tried to kick the bolted table. 

I didn't flinch. I just watched him. The "handsome package" of entitled cruelty was gone, replaced by a man who couldn't even control his own self, let alone a multi-billion dollar empire. He was a coward who could only feel powerful by diminishing others, and he finally realized he had no power over me anymore.

"Goodbye, Dante," I said quietly over his screaming. "I hope you get the help you clearly need. But don't look for me. I'm not in your shadow anymore."

I turned my back on the noise and walked out the door.

As I stepped out into the afternoon sun, the air felt different. Lighter. I took a deep breath, feeling the cool breeze on my face. For years, I’d carried the weight of the Belmar name like a penance, trying to prove I was worthy of a legacy that felt more like a curse.

But as I walked toward my car, I realized I didn't owe him, or Tyler, or even the memory of my father's expectations, a single thing. 

I pulled out my phone and dialed Dwayne. 

"Hey," he answered, his voice warm and instantly grounding. "Everything okay? How did it go?”

"Everything is perfect," I said. “I’m coming home. See you soon.”

"I love the sound of that," he replied.

I started the car, leaving the facility, and Dante in the rearview mirror. I was finally at peace. And for the first time, the future didn't look like a series of battles to be won. It just looked like home.