Chapter 178
Chapter 178
Edward held on until the flame licked close to his fingers before letting go. The last scrap of paper drifted into the ashtray on the coffee table, burned itself out, and crumbled into a small heap of charcoal-gray ash.
Victoria stared at the ashes without speaking.
After a long moment, she reached over and placed her hand on the back of his, her palm pressing against his knuckles. "You can't let me down."
"I never will."
Edward turned his hand over and laced his fingers through hers. "I said I want to be with you. I will never regret that."
He wasn't Aiden.
When it came to the person he loved, he gave nothing less than absolute loyalty.
Their fingers interlocked over the coffee table, a faint wisp of smoke still curling from the ashes.
From Yara's bedroom came a sleepy mumble—like a kitten's soft hum—before she rolled over and drifted back to sleep.
---
Five days later, the preliminary ruling came through.
All charges against Nolan were dismissed. That afternoon, he completed the paperwork and walked out through the prison gates.
Victoria was waiting at the entrance. The swelling on her left cheek had fully subsided. The cut at her mouth had healed, leaving only the faintest pale trace.
She wore a clean white blouse, her hair pulled back, Yara's hand in hers.
Yara had on her favorite pink dress, clutching a drawing she'd made—three stick figures holding hands, the wobbly lines connecting them all together.
Nolan squinted as he stepped outside, adjusting to the sunlight.
He'd lost a lot of weight. More than half his hair had gone white. But he stood straight.
When he spotted Victoria and Yara at the gate, his stride faltered for a second. Then he walked quickly toward them.
Yara looked up at the white-haired man, shy at first, pressing closer to Victoria's leg. But Nolan crouched down with a gentle smile, and she was drawn in almost immediately.
He fished a cellophane-wrapped candy from his pocket and held it out. Yara took it, clutching it in her small fist. "Thank you, Grandpa," she whispered.
Nolan looked up at Victoria.
She didn't speak. She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him.
His shoulders were narrower than she remembered. Through the thin prison-issue clothing, she could feel the shape of his bones.
She held on for a few seconds, then let go, stepped back, and smiled. "Dad, let's go home."
---
Edward had the car parked at the curb. The back seat was set up with a pillow and a light blanket, the seat adjusted for comfort.
Nolan ducked in and glanced at Edward in the driver's seat. His gaze was appraising, but he said nothing.
They drove for about fifteen minutes before he spoke. "Young man, you told me once you were serious about my daughter. Is that still the case?"
Edward met his eyes in the rearview mirror. "Yes."
Nolan nodded.
The car was quiet for a while. Yara leaned against Nolan's leg, crinkling the candy wrapper between her fingers, the soft rustling the only sound.
Nolan looked down at her fuzzy little head and gently stroked her hair.
Victoria sat in the passenger seat, watching the roadside trees flash past the window. Sunlight filtered through the leaves, casting shifting patterns of light across the glass.
---
That evening, Lily prepared a full spread.
Rhea came too, sitting at the head of the table with a warm smile, watching Yara spear a piece of food with her fork and promptly drop it on the tablecloth.
Nolan sat beside Victoria. Midway through the meal, he said quietly, "Your mother—she would have loved to see you like this."
Victoria's fork paused. She lowered her head. "Mm," she murmured, and said nothing more.
Under the table, Edward reached over and squeezed her hand. Just for a second. Then let go.
A wordless comfort.
---
Life began to move forward again.
Nolan gradually readjusted to the outside world. He took morning walks, read the paper, and spent afternoons with Yara feeding the fish in the community garden pond.
Victoria's staircase-series designs were officially picked up for production by a minimalist home brand. When the first batch of samples arrived, she unwrapped them and studied them for a long time. She photographed them and sent the pictures to Edward. He replied with one word.
[Good.]
But Victoria knew what that word really meant.
Edward had personally visited the manufacturer to oversee the prototyping.
The results wouldn't have been this good otherwise.
---
That same month, Aiden was formally placed under criminal investigation.
The charges included conspiring with Michael to fabricate case files for the Spencer Group, illegal asset transfers, and facilitating cross-border money laundering through Creative Haven's channels.
Victoria didn't attend the trial. She stayed at her studio and drew an entire new series of designs, working from afternoon straight through until dark.
Veda texted her afterward to say the hearing was over. Aiden hadn't spoken a word throughout. The only thing she noticed was that his hand trembled when he signed the documents.
Victoria read the message, set her phone on the desk, and went back to shading the final piece.
Everything that had happened—it wasn't that long ago.
But it already felt like another lifetime.
The name Aiden meant nothing to her now.
---
After Aiden's imprisonment, Creative Haven's stock plummeted for days straight. Within a month, the company entered bankruptcy proceedings.
The day the firm was placed under receivership, Edward's assistant set the disposition plan on his desk. He flipped two pages, signed it, and didn't look at it again.
---
Strangely, no one saw Bianca after that.
She didn't appear at Aiden's trial. She didn't appear anywhere public.
Her social media accounts were deactivated three days after the news broke. Photos of her studio's signage being taken down circulated briefly in their circles, then faded.
Victoria didn't see Bianca again until two months later.
It was raining that day. She and Veda were leaving a restaurant when Victoria glanced down a narrow alley as they passed.
A woman stood by the stove of a small noodle shop, wearing a grease-stained apron. A thick brace wrapped her right wrist. Her left hand carried a bowl of noodles to a customer's table.
Half her profile was blurred by steam, but Victoria recognized her.
Bianca.
Her hair was cut short, the uneven ends tucked behind her ears. She was thinner than before—noticeably so. The line of her neck rose from the apron collar, collarbones jutting sharply.
She set the bowl down and turned back toward the kitchen, her steps unhurried, her right foot dragging slightly.
Veda followed Victoria's gaze. "What are you looking at?"
"Nothing."
Victoria turned away. "Let's go."
She didn't tell Veda who it was.
There was no point.
Bianca had done terrible things. She'd earned whatever came to her.
But that had nothing to do with Victoria anymore.
She had her own life to live.
Victoria tilted the umbrella toward Veda, and the two of them walked along the wet pavement to the corner to wait for a car.
---
That weekend morning, Veda invited Victoria out for coffee.
Victoria changed and came downstairs to find Yara sitting on the living room sofa, fully dressed and ready to go.
A brand-new dress. Lily had done her hair up in two little pigtail buns. On her feet, a pair of sparkly patent-leather shoes.