Chapter 29
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Paul
Forty-eight hours until trial. I couldn't sleep. Every wasted second could send Casey and Tommy into the abyss.
Outside the window, Waikiki Beach blazed with lights. Music drifted from somewhere distant—tourists living it up in Hawaii's nightlife. But here in this office, there was only the whisper of turning pages and the steady tick of the wall clock.
I didn't hear Marcus come in. Didn't notice until he was standing at my desk.
"Paul. You haven't slept in two straight days."
His brow was furrowed, worry naked in his eyes. He pressed his hand down on the mountain of files. "The evidence is solid. You keep burning yourself out like this, you'll collapse before we even get to court. Casey and Tommy need you standing strong, not running on fumes."
"I'm fine." I pushed his hand away and went back to the next file. "I need to go through every single piece. Can't afford to miss anything."
Marcus stayed quiet for a long moment. Finally, he gripped my shoulder hard. "Paul, you've done enough. She's not that helpless woman from six years ago anymore. You're her armor now."
I didn't answer. Just bent my head and kept checking the evidence, line by line. I'd turn every debt I owed into strength to protect them.
The local evidence chain was complete—the suspicious bank transfers, screenshots from the preschool parents' group chat, the mail route trace on that anonymous hospital tip. Piece it all together, and it was airtight, enough to prove Diana and Elizabeth's crimes.
But the one thing that would shatter their lies completely was still locked away in the Vincent Family archives in Boston. Proof that my marriage to Diana was void. Proof I'd only ever loved Casey. I didn't hesitate. Booked a red-eye to Boston that night.
When the plane climbed into the night sky, the cabin lights went dark.
Most passengers wrapped themselves in blankets and dozed off.
I sat awake, staring out the window at the endless black.
Clouds were thick—no stars, no city lights below.
Like the whole world was covered by one massive dark sheet.
Boston was where I was born and raised. The cage that trapped half my life. The place where I lost Casey. This time, I was taking back what belonged to me.
The plane landed in rain. Cold, damp air seeped through the cabin door, biting cold slipping under my collar. A different world from Hawaii's warmth. I didn't go to the main house, didn't contact anyone. Drove straight to the family archive.
Old Tom was waiting at the door. He'd served the Vincents for forty years—the only one who knew the whole truth of what happened back then.
He saw the exhaustion and urgency in my eyes.
Didn't ask questions. Just swiped the security room open and said quietly, "What you need is in the back cabinet. I pulled it like you asked."
I walked into the security room fast. My finger shook slightly as it hovered over the keypad. Took a deep breath. Punched in the code. The cabinet clicked open. A single document lay on the velvet lining.
The marriage contract between Diana and me. Paper yellowed with age. My signature line—blank. We'd gone through the engagement ceremony. Elizabeth and the Rossi family signed. Diana signed. I never did. The so-called marriage had zero legal standing from the start.
I sealed the document in a waterproof sleeve and tucked it inside my jacket. Tom stood guard at the door. I looked back at him. "Don't mention this to anyone." He nodded, eyes down.
I left the archive and immediately called the immigrant community center where Casey worked six years ago. I needed character witnesses. Her kindness, her warmth, her resilience—none of it deserved to be smeared by Elizabeth's lies.
The operator transferred me to Grace, the director. I explained briefly. Half an hour later, the phone rang back. A woman's voice came through, thick Spanish accent, choked with emotion.
"Mr. Vincent, I'm Maria, an immigrant mother. I'll never forget Miss White."
Maria's voice was raw with gratitude.
"Six years ago, my son had a high fever and went into convulsions.
I didn't speak English. I was falling apart at the hospital.
Miss White dropped everything, stayed with me all night, translated, helped me talk to the doctors, and waited outside the ER.
She's the kindest, most responsible person I've ever met.
She's absolutely a good mother. If the court needs me, I'll be there. I'll testify for her."
I gripped the phone. Warmth spread through my chest. That was Casey, drowning herself, still reaching out to pull others to shore. That goodness didn't deserve to be crushed by Elizabeth and Diana's schemes.
"Thank you, Maria." My voice was steady. "I'll let you know the hearing time. Travel, expenses—I'll handle everything."
That afternoon, I flew back to Hawaii with the key evidence. Landed late. Didn't go home. Drove straight to Marcus's office.
Marcus looked at the unsigned contract. His eyes lit up. "Paul, this is lethal. Blows Elizabeth's 'lawful marriage' argument to pieces. The judge will immediately rule your marriage to Diana lacked genuine consent. Casey's status won't be questioned again."
He set the contract down and clapped me hard on the shoulder. "You did it."
I collapsed into the chair and finally let myself close my eyes for a moment. Casey's face floated up—the soft way she looked at Tommy, the trust in her eyes when she looked at me. All the exhaustion, the pain, the torment—it all meant something now.
The day before trial, all evidence finalized, I picked up my phone to text Casey. Tell her I had it covered. Tell her to rest easy. Then the phone buzzed violently. Video call—Father.
Father hadn't reached out in ages. Since I left Boston, we'd spoken maybe a handful of times, and every call ended in shouting or silence. I stared at the name flashing on screen. Took a deep breath. Hit accept. The video feed popped up.
On screen, Father lay in his bed at the main house, face white as paper, lips cracked, hooked up to monitors. The beeping came through tinny and harsh. The man who'd once been so powerful could barely lift his hand now.
He spoke first. Voice hoarse but still carrying that authority. "Paul. Last chance. Drop Casey. Drop the kid. Come back to Boston, take over the family business. I'll let everything before this slide. Elizabeth and Diana—I'll make them back off."
I looked straight at him. No flinching. "Father, I've made my choice. I'm not changing it this time."
"Thank you for giving me life. For the privilege, the education. I'll never forget that. But the life I want—it's with Casey and Tommy. Peace. Freedom from the family's grip, from living against my own heart. You can't give me that. The Vincent Family can't give me that."
The room fell silent except for the monotonous beep of the monitor. Father looked at me, expression unreadable. He didn't explode. Didn't yell. Just watched me quietly, like he was looking through me at a younger version of himself.
After a long moment, he let out a heavy sigh.
"Paul, you're doing what I never had the guts to do.
" His gaze drifted to the window, falling into some distant memory.
"When your mother was alive, I was young once, too.
I loved. I thought about leaving it all behind, taking her to the countryside, living like normal people.
No business dinners, no power plays, no family interests. Just us, living quietly."
He coughed, breath weaker, but kept going. "But I was afraid. Couldn't let go of the power, the wealth, the Vincent name. I chose the family. Lost her. Your mother wasted away, gone before she turned fifty. And I sat here with this empire, a lonely old man. Biggest regret of my life."
His eyes came back to me. The hardness was gone. Only release and tenderness remained. "Maybe you're right. Power's hollow. Money's dead. People—once they're gone, you never get them back."
He slowly raised his withered hand and waved it gently at the camera. A gesture that said go.
"Go, Paul. Hold on to what truly matters. Don't be like me. Don't spend your life with regrets."
I froze. Blood felt like it stopped moving. This was the first time Father ever dropped his pride, showed his weakness and remorse, the first time he treated me like his son instead of the Vincent heir.
Tears flooded my eyes instantly, vision blurred, chest tight but wrapped in enormous warmth. I clutched the phone, voice breaking but clear.
"Thank you, Father."
I knew. From this moment on, I wasn't Paul Vincent, prisoner of the family anymore. I was Casey's rock. Tommy's father. A man brave enough to face his heart and protect the ones he loved.