Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
Paul
The Oahu sun had never felt so harsh, so damn accusatory.
I stood frozen, watching Casey disappear into the hula dancers with the kid in her arms. Those colorful grass skirts swayed behind her, cutting me off like a wall.
I wanted to go after her. But a hand grabbed my arm.
"Mr. Vincent?" David, market director from Boston headquarters, stared at me, confused. "Thank God I found you! Hawaiian Airlines is still waiting, and the five o'clock meeting—"
I shook him off. Too late.
The crowd surged like a wave. The hula troupe moved on, tourists cheering after them. By the time I pushed through, the path to the beach stood empty except for a few shaved ice vendors hawking their wares.
She was gone.
I stood there in the streaming crowd, heart seized in an invisible fist. Every beat tore something inside me.
"Mr. Vincent?" David called again. I snapped back.
I turned, let the suits herd me toward the parking lot. My mind kept replaying that single second of eye contact. Casey's eyes, once full of adoration and warmth, now held only one thing: fear.
Not joy at our reunion. Not years of accumulated resentment. Fear. Like I was some kind of monster who'd drag her straight to hell if she hesitated one second.
That realization nearly suffocated me.
I sat through the meeting, documents in front of me, Hawaiian Airlines CEO talking. I heard nothing. My head was full of those few seconds—the way she looked at me, the way she ran with the child, that instant when the kid's face turned toward me.
Honestly, in that moment, I thought I was looking at myself at five. I knew, with absolute certainty, that he was my son.
After the meeting, I didn't go back to the hotel. I stood alone by the ocean for a long time.
I hadn't come to Hawaii for some acquisition deal. A three-hundred-million-dollar negotiation could be handled by someone else. I came for her. After they tracked her down here, I booked a flight that same day. Today was just a coincidence. I didn't know she'd be there.
I'd hesitated before coming. But the moment I saw her, I knew I'd made the right call.
"Still nothing?" My voice came out raw. I stared at my phone. My private investigator on the other end.
"Sir, she seems to be deliberately hiding her tracks, but on an island this small, complete erasure is impossible. Give me twelve more hours."
I hung up and slumped against the couch. Twelve hours. I couldn't wait that long.
The next day, I cleared my schedule, changed into low-key gray casual wear, and drove to that community hospital.
I parked under some trees, hidden in shadow. Like some pathetic voyeur watching the entrance.
Around four in the afternoon, the figure I'd been dreaming about appeared.
She wore faded light blue scrubs, hair pulled back simply. She looked thinner than six years ago. The naive innocence was gone from her eyes, replaced by weathered resilience and exhaustion.
My hand gripped the door handle. I almost burst out to pull her into my arms.
Then I froze.
A man in a white coat followed her out. Early thirties, warm and sunny-looking. He was turned toward Casey, speaking to her, his eyes showing admiration and affection I knew all too well.
He naturally took a heavy medical kit from her hands, movements practiced, like he'd done it a thousand times. Casey didn't refuse. She turned to him with a brilliant smile.
That smile used to be mine alone.
Jealousy engulfed me like wildfire. I wanted to charge over there, use the Vincent Family's damn power to kick this guy aside, tell him Casey was mine, that kid was mine!
My fist clenched tight, veins bulging on my hand. I watched them walk to a bench by the hospital entrance.
"Ella," the doctor's voice carried over. "I tried making some kids' meals tonight. I'll drop them by your place."
Casey looked at him gratefully, voice gentle enough to drive me insane with jealousy. "Thank you, Mark. Always bothering you. I don't know how to repay you."
"Don't talk nonsense. Taking care of you two—I'm happy to do it." The man named Mark reached out like he wanted to touch Casey's head, but restrained himself, just patting her shoulder.
My heart felt torn by a rusty, dull blade.
Repay? Taking care? Happy to do it?
During these six years I'd been absent, this man had been by her side? He'd been there when Tommy was sick and crying at night?
And me? I'd been in that cold Boston manor, maintaining the family's fake dignity.
Six years ago, I told her to her face that she wasn't good enough.
Six years later, she showed me with her actions that I was the one who wasn't good enough.
I didn't deserve her smile, didn't deserve to be part of Tommy's life, didn't even deserve to appear in her peaceful life now. To her, I wasn't some international conglomerate CEO. I was just a stain she desperately wanted to scrub away, the past she wanted to escape from in her nightmares.
I sat in the car thinking for a long time, then drove to Waikiki Beach. I parked by the road and walked aimlessly along the coast. Then I saw them without warning.
Tommy squatted by the tide line, digging in the sand with a little shovel.
Casey and Mark sat on a nearby rock, laughing and talking.
Tommy dug for a bit, then ran over holding something to show Mark.
Mark took it, patted Tommy's head, pointed at the beach, and said something. Tommy ran back to keep digging.
The sun sank slowly, painting the ocean orange-red.
Tommy ran back again, this time holding two shells. He gave one to Casey, one to Mark. Casey took hers, smiling as she touched his head. Mark held his to his ear listening. Tommy laughed so hard he nearly fell over.
I stood in the distance watching the scene like a thief stealing glimpses of someone else's happiness.
After a while, Mark stood up, walked to Tommy's side, helped carry his bucket, and took his hand walking back. Casey stood and followed. The three of them went down the path like a family.
I stood there watching for a long time, watching them disappear like a family, unable to do anything. I didn't even have the right to walk over.
Waves rolled in one after another, hitting near my feet. My shoes got wet, but my head was full of those images. Tommy offering shells, Tommy laughing till he nearly fell, Tommy bouncing around.
I'd seen photos of this kid—in reports, on my phone. I'd looked at them countless times. But photos were dead. People were alive.
The Tommy before my eyes could run, laugh, and pull adults' hands toward the beach. He called Casey "Mommy" and called that man "Mark." He probably didn't even know there was someone in this world called Dad.
I suddenly felt unbearably bitter, my heart dense with pinprick pain. But I knew clearly I deserved all of this.
I started the car and went back to the hotel. Standing at the window, I looked at the bright lights on the beach below. Tourists strolled the streets, some holding ice cream, some carrying shopping bags. The luau was over, the beach quieter now, just the sound of distant waves.
I couldn't stop thinking about the daytime scene again.
Her smiling thank you to that man, the way he took her medical kit, the gentle look in her eyes when she said, "I don't know how to repay you," his matter-of-fact tone when he said, "taking care of you two—I'm happy to do it."
Six years. She'd lived a whole new life on this island. Got a job through her own effort, had a healthy, lively son, and had a man by her side taking care of them.
And me? Six years ago, that winter, on the street corner by the Four Seasons, I told her if she sat in Diana's seat, the Vincent Family would only march toward ruin.
I stood at the window for a long time. Then I took out my phone and called David.
"Push back all my appointments," I said. "If anything comes up, tell them to contact my lawyer."
David paused. "Mr. Vincent, what are you—"
"I'm on vacation." I hung up.
The next morning, I rented an apartment.
Two blocks from the preschool, ten minutes by car.
One bedroom, one living room, fully furnished.
The landlady was a local old woman, white-haired, speaking slowly.
She asked if I was living alone. I said yes.
Asked what I was doing in Hawaii? I said vacation.
She said you're renting for a year for vacation? I said I like it here.
She looked at me, didn't ask more, and handed me the keys.
After signing the contract, I stood in the empty living room looking at the palm trees outside. Sunlight filtered through the leaves, casting mottled shadows on the floor.
I didn't know what would happen next, didn't know if she'd forgive me. Six years ago, I said those words, did those things. Why should she forgive me?
Didn't know if that guy Mark would keep standing between us. He'd been with her six years, taking care of her, taking care of her son. He said, "Taking care of you two—I'm happy to do it." Why should he step aside?
Didn't know if Tommy would accept me. He was five years old with his own life, with Mark. Why would he want a father who'd never been there?
I didn't know any of it. But I knew one thing.
Six years ago, I was a coward. To shoulder family responsibility, I pushed away the only woman who'd ever truly loved me. I made her run eight thousand kilometers away, made her endure every difficult night alone.
Six years later, I didn't want to be a coward anymore.
Whether she wanted me or not, whether Dr. Mark was around or not, whether Tommy accepted me or not, I'd stay here. Stay near her and my son.
The day she needed someone, the day she was willing to give me another chance, I'd be here.
This time, I wouldn't run away again.