Chapter 151

Chapter 151
The Foster mansion had never felt this quiet.

Nathan sat alone in the darkened living room, tie loosened, shirt unbuttoned at the collar. The only light came from his phone screen, still frozen on the message Fox had forwarded two hours ago.

Kaia's full confession. Every detail. Every instruction Bianca had given her.

The fake emergency call to lure Kaida away from her post. The man hired to jam the green room door from outside. The modified power strip rigged with a delayed short-circuit device, designed to spark fifteen minutes after activation—just enough time for the saboteur to disappear.

Bianca had planned it down to the minute.

And that day on set, when she'd stepped into Logan's path to chat—something she'd never done before—she'd been buying time. Making sure no one reached Cordelia until the fire had done its job.

Nathan set the phone face-down on the armrest. His hand was steady. The rest of him was not.

He thought about every time Cordelia had warned him. Every time she'd said Bianca wasn't what she seemed. Every time he'd dismissed her, defended Bianca, and made Cordelia feel like the unreasonable one.

He thought about Yara parroting Bianca's words. About the tears his daughter cried because a woman he'd trusted had whispered poison into her ears.

He thought about the fire.

If Logan hadn't gotten there in time. If Cordelia hadn't broken that door open with her bare hands. If the smoke had been thicker, the flames faster—

His fist slammed into the armrest. The dull thud echoed through the empty room.

"Daddy?"

He looked up. Yara stood at the foot of the stairs in her pajamas, clutching a stuffed rabbit. Her eyes were wide with worry.

"Why are you sitting in the dark?"

Nathan stared at his daughter's face—so small, so uncertain—and felt something crack open inside his chest.

If Bianca's plan had worked, this child would have no mother.

And it would have been his fault.

He opened his arms. Yara padded over and climbed into his lap. He held her so tight she squirmed.

"Daddy, you're squishing me."

"Sorry." His voice came out raw. "Yara, Daddy made a lot of mistakes."

Yara tilted her head up. "What kind of mistakes?"

The kind that almost cost you everything.

He smoothed her hair and said nothing.

---

The next morning, Nathan called his lawyer.

The conversation was brief. His instructions were precise.

By noon, a formal legal proposal arrived at Cordelia's attorney's office: Nathan Foster was voluntarily relinquishing sole custody of Yara Foster and requesting a joint custody arrangement.

Attached was a handwritten letter.

Cordelia opened it in the hospital garden, where she'd been sitting with Logan while Rhys played on the grass nearby.

She recognized Nathan's handwriting—sharp, disciplined strokes that somehow managed to look lonely on the page.

Cordelia,

I have no right to use Yara to keep you tethered to me. I see that now.

She needs you. More than she needs me. I think she always has.

All I ask is that you let me remain her father.

I won't interfere with your life again.

— Nathan

Cordelia read it twice. Then she folded the letter and slipped it into her pocket.

Logan watched her face. "What does it say?"

"He's giving up sole custody. Wants joint."

Logan's eyebrows rose. Whatever he'd expected, it wasn't that. "Do you believe him?"

Cordelia thought about it. Really thought about it.

Nathan was many things—proud, stubborn, emotionally stunted. But he wasn't a liar. When he made a decision, he followed through.

"Yes," she said quietly. "I think I do."

She didn't call Nathan. She didn't need to. She instructed her lawyer to accept the joint custody proposal that afternoon.

Some conversations didn't need words. The silence said enough.

---

That evening, Nathan stood at the upstairs window of the Foster mansion, watching the movers carry the last of Bianca's belongings out to a van.

Clothes. Shoes. Makeup. Books. The accumulated evidence of a woman who had embedded herself so deeply into his household that removing her felt like pulling stitches from a wound.

His housekeeper appeared at his side. "That's everything, sir."

Nathan nodded. "Have the guest room cleaned. Top to bottom. Replace the bedding."

"Yes, sir."

His phone buzzed. A notification from his lawyer. Cordelia's side had accepted the joint custody agreement.

He closed his eyes.

Letting go. So this was what it felt like.

Not relief. Not peace. Just a vast, aching emptiness where his obsession used to live.

He'd spent months trying to claw Cordelia back. Manipulating, guilt-tripping, using their daughter as leverage. And in the end, the only thing that earned him a shred of her respect was stepping aside.

He opened his eyes and looked out at the darkening sky.

Somewhere across the city, Cordelia was with Logan. She was safe. She was healing. She was loved.

That had to be enough.