Page 52 of October
"I understand, Laura," I said quietly. "You wanted power. You wanted the title, the prestige, the money. You wanted to be CEO, to be seen. Fine."
She blinked, lips parting slightly, but I kept going, the weight of every regret pressing against my chest.
"But you didn't have to do it like this. You didn't have to use me. You didn't have to weasel your way into my life and pretend to care. But that part—that's on me. All of it. You never would've gotten in if I hadn't opened the damn door myself. I was the fool. The idiot who let his ego talk louder than his instincts. I fell for the attention of a successful woman because I was starving for validation and you knew exactly how to feed that hunger."
Her expression twisted with desperation, venom leaking into her voice.
"You think you're innocent? I'll bring you down with me!" My dad yelled.
I shook my head slowly, the fight gone from my body but the truth settling in my bones like iron.
"If you can, go ahead. Try. But you won't. I already lost what mattered most. I lost her. The life we built. The family I took for granted. So believe me when I say—I have nothing left to lose." I said, my voice steady, though my chest felt like it was caving in. "It's over. You're done. You'll rot in jail and finally pay for everything you did."
I waited the satisfaction to hit. For that righteous surge of triumph. But it didn't come.
"The sad thing is," I added quietly, "I'm not even happy seeing you fall. I thought I'd feel something—relief, maybe. Justice. But all I feel is empty."
He laughed—a bitter, grating sound that used to make me freeze as a child.
"You always were soft," he spat. "No spine. No bite."
Then his expression twisted into something crueller, harsher than even I expected.
"You will always be the worst thing in my life, Thomas," he snarled. "The biggest failure I ever produced. Stupid. Weak. Pathetic. Useless. At least your sister had the balls to leave. But you?" He stepped closer, sneering now. "You've always been like dirt in my shoes. A stain I could never wash out."
Every word felt like a hammer to my chest, but I didn't flinch, not this time. His lip curled, but the bravado faltered. Just for a moment, I saw something behind his eyes, fear, maybe. Or the realization that his empire, built on cruelty, was crumbling.
"I hope you remember this moment for the rest of your life," I said, my voice cracking. "Not because I won. But because you lostme. Forever."
Behind us, the officers stepped forward, ready to take him away. Joseph stood off to the side, arms crossed, watching the officers approaching Laura and James like it was the season finale of a drama he'd been following for years. He tilted his head with theatrical thoughtfulness, eyes twinkling with smug satisfaction.
"Oww," he said, dragging out the word with faux sympathy. "I should've brought snacks. Maybe some popcorn. Watching your little empire crumble like a stale cookie? Honestly better than cable."
As Laura shrieked about lawyers and James hissed curses under his breath, Joseph barely contained his grin. He leaned in a bit, stage-whispering to one of the officers, "Make sure they ride separately. Wouldn't want them conspiring."
Laura tried to throw one last glare over her shoulder, but Joseph waved like she was boarding a cruise.
"Bye Laura! Orange jumpsuits, iron bars, and roommates who don't care about your daddy issues—finally, a place where you can truly shine!"
He looked at James, eyes narrowing. "And you? Enjoy prison,Father of the Century. You'll finally have an audience thathasto listen to you. Try not to cry when they don't clap."
Then he turned to me, still smirking but with a warmth behind his sarcasm. "God, I feel lighter already. It's like someone finally flushed the toilet."
As the officers stepped in my father's eyes darted between them, his jaw tightening. One of the officers—tall, stone-faced, unreadable—spoke calmly, firmly. "Mr. Lemaire, we need you to come with us."
But my father didn't move.
"You can't do this to me, YOU CAN'T" he growled then turned to me, "You are pathetic, Thomas, do you hear me?" he spat, his voice rising like bile. "You will always be the same stupid, pathetic excuse of a man. You hear me? She should've had that damned abortion. I wish—IwishI never had you."
His words didn't just vanish into the air—theysplinteredthrough it, sharp and final, like glass breaking in a cathedral. The officers finally took them away. But my eyes didn't move, and my father's words melted into static. Like the world had shifted underwater, distant, muffled, slow. My limbs felt foreign, like I was borrowing this body from someone else. Someone less broken.
Because something inside me had cracked. Not a clean break, a messy, jagged snap. Like part of me had just...died. My breath came in sharp, choppy gasps. I wasn't even sure I was breathing anymore, or if my body was just panicking, trying to remember how to keep me alive. I turned and walked, stumbling back on legs that suddenly felt too thin to carry a lifetime of shame. And then—
Joseph.
His hand gripped my shoulder—firm, grounding,real. In one motion he pulled me into a hug so tight I could barely breathe, and I wanted to melt into it, vanish in the warmth, in the safety.
But I didn't know how. I didn't know how to be held. I didn't know how to be comforted. So I stood there, stiff, like a child locked in time. Then Joseph leaned back just enough to look me in the eyes, his voice low and steady:
