Chapter 93 What Sorry Means
Saturday Morning 10:15
Elena’s phone buzzed on the kitchen counter.
Unknown number. A short message.
She almost deleted it; too many unknown numbers nowadays, reporters, strangers with opinions.
But for some reason she decided to open it.
This is Felicia, and I know you probably don’t want to hear from me, but I have to say something, can we talk just once, I’ll come to you anywhere you want, please.
Elena stared at the message.
Alexander looked up from his coffee mug.
"Felicia."
"What does she want?"
"To talk, says she needs to say something."
"No response is necessary."
"I know."
She set down the phone. Returned to breakfast preparation.
Leo was still asleep, the Saturday morning cartoons would be starting soon and he would come out demanding pancakes.
Regular morning, why ruin it?
But the phone lay there, the message unread, waiting.
"What are you thinking?”
"That I don’t want to see her."
"Ok."
"But also that — maybe I should hear her out first?"
"You don’t owe her that."
"I know."
She picked up the phone once more. Read the message three more times.
I’ve got to say something.
Not I want you to forgive me, not I want to explain.
Just—something to say.
Elena typed: Coffee. Public place. One hour. Bluebird Cafe on Amsterdam.
The reply came immediately: Thanks, I will be there.
11:30 AM – Bluebird Cafe
Elena arrived first.
Sat.
Waited.
Her phone buzzed, Alexander: You okay?
Fine, she is not here yet.
Call me if you need, I am five minutes away.
I know.
The door opened, and Felicia stepped inside.
She hardly looked like herself. She was thinner, hair pulled back, no makeup, just jeans and a sweater.
Not the usual polished, untouchable Felicia. Just someone who looked tired. Like all her confidence had drained out.
She found Elena and walked over.
"Thank you for coming."
"Sit," Elena said.
Felicia slid into the booth. She ordered coffee without glancing at the menu.
They didn’t talk while they waited. Just sat in awkward silence.
When the coffee landed on the table, Felicia wrapped her hands around her mug but didn’t drink.
"I’ve been seeing a therapist," she finally said.
Elena just listened.
"Three times a week. Since the arrest. Since… everything." Felicia’s words stumbled. "She’s helping me figure out why I did all of it. What went wrong with me.”
"Okay."
"I know that doesn’t fix anything. Doesn’t make it right. Doesn’t undo what I did to you, or your mom, or… anybody. I just wanted you to know I’m trying. I want to understand."
Elena sipped her coffee. "Why tell me now?"
"Because I owe you a real apology."
"Okay," Elena said. "So apologize."
Felicia stared down at her hands. "I’m sorry. For everything. For those articles. For Christopher. For teaming up with my mother. For—" Her voice caught. "For hating you when you never actually did anything to me."
"Why did you hate me?"
"Because you had what I wanted—Alexander. Success. People respected you. Everything looked so easy for you, and I worked so hard and got nowhere."
"It wasn’t easy," Elena told her quietly.
"I know that now. But back then, I couldn’t see past my own jealousy. My anger. I just wanted you gone."
Elena put her cup down. "Did you know what your mother did to my mother?"
"Not until after she was arrested. Not until Marcus told me. I always knew she was cruel, manipulative, but I didn’t know… I didn’t know about Rebecca."
"Would it have mattered, if you had?"
Felicia went quiet for a long time. "I want to say yes. Honestly, though? I don’t know. I was so obsessed with beating you, with winning, I don’t know if anything could have stopped me."
"At least you’re honest now."
"I’m trying. It’s all I have left."
They let the silence settle. Around them, other people talked and laughed. It all felt very far away.
"I’m not asking for forgiveness," Felicia said into her cooling coffee. "I know I don’t deserve that. I just needed to do this. Face to face. Not in a text, not through lawyers. Just—person to person. I’m sorry. I was wrong. And I’ll live with that."
Elena watched her. Here was the woman who’d once been her stepsister, her enemy, the person who nearly destroyed her. Now? Just a person. Broken, trying.
"What do you want from me?" Elena asked.
"Nothing. Really. I just wanted to say sorry. And—" She hesitated. "To tell you I’m testifying. For the prosecution if they asked. Against my mother."
"You are?"
"The DA asked. I said yes. I have texts. Emails. Recordings."
"You recorded your own mother?"
Felicia gave a sad little shrug. "Part of me always knew I might need proof of what she was. I just never… thought I’d actually use it against her."
"But you are."
"She destroyed your mother. Almost destroyed you. She used me to do it. I can’t protect her anymore."
"Will she go to prison?"
Felicia’s hands shook. "If I testify? Probably. For a long time."
"And you’re okay with that?"
Tears slipped out of Felicia’s eyes. "No. But I’m doing it anyway. Because it’s right. I spent too long doing what was easy."
Elena didn’t know what to say. Felicia wasn’t defensive or manipulative anymore. She was just—honest. Raw.
"I should go," Felicia said. She stood up, left money for her coffee.
"Felicia," Elena said.
She paused.
"I don’t forgive you," Elena told her. "Not yet. Maybe not ever. But… I’m glad you apologized. That means something."
"It’s not enough."
"No. But it’s something."
Felicia nodded. "That’s more than I deserve."
She left.
Elena sat alone, finished her coffee, and paid. Then she stepped out into the cold.
Her phone buzzed. Alexander: Done?
Done.
Coming home?
Yes.
She walked slowly, just to breathe and think. Felicia apologized. She meant it.
She was testifying, even if it hurt. It wouldn’t erase the past, wouldn’t fix everything. But still—it was something.
A start. Maybe that’s all anyone could do—take a step, put a crack in the wall, and try.
At home, Leo was at the kitchen table, sticky with syrup.
"Mama! Dad made pancakes! They’re only a little burned!"
"That’s very diplomatic," Alexander said.
Elena kissed Leo’s messy hair. "They look perfect."
"Want some?"
"Maybe in a bit."
Alexander followed her to their bedroom. "How’d it go?"
"She apologized. For real this time. And she’s testifying against Viviana."
He blinked. "Wow."
"Yeah," she said. "I don’t know what I’m feeling. Sad, maybe. Relieved. Confused. I guess… all of it."
"That’s fair."
"She looked terrible. Lost. Like everything she thought about herself just… disappeared."
"It probably did."
"I should feel satisfied. Vindicated. Instead I’m just tired."
Alexander sat down next to her. "You don’t have to know how to feel right now."
"I don’t forgive her."
"You don’t have to."
"But maybe someday?"
"Maybe, maybe not. That’s for you to decide. No timeline."
She leaned against him. "She’s going to help put her mother in prison."
"That’s her choice."
"It’s a hard one."
He smiled, a little crooked. "Most good choices are."
From the kitchen, Leo hollered: "Mama! Dad! Come watch cartoons with me!"
"Coming!" Elena called.
She wiped her eyes and stood. "Okay. Cartoons. Normal Saturday. Try to move forward."
"You sure?"
"Nope. Doing it anyway."
They squeezed onto the couch with Leo. He didn’t notice they might have been cryin
g. He just pulled the blanket higher, glued to the screen.
"This is the good part," he said. "The T-Rex is about to save everyone."
"Of course he is," Elena replied.
“Because he’s the hero. Heroes always save people.”
“Always?”
“Always.”
She kept her eyes on the screen—T-Rex came barreling in, teeth bared, scaring off the bad guys. Saving the little ones.
No room for doubt here. The lines between good and bad were bright as day.
If only it worked that way outside cartoons. Real heroes made mistakes.
Villains had reasons. Nobody’s story was so clean, and forgiveness... well, that got messy.
But right now?
She pressed closer to her son, smoothed the blanket over their legs, let herself forget what was coming.
For these few minutes, T-Rex could roar and triumph, and the world would stay simple, easy to understand.
Half an hour. That’s all she wanted.
Soon, the trial would start. Grown-ups in suits, words like accusations. Everything about to get heavy.
But she still had this.
This dented couch. This warm, wriggly kid. His faith in heroes.
For now, that was everything. And it was enough.