Chapter 13 #2
“So,” she says suddenly. “I understand now why you couldn’t tell me what happened five years ago.
You didn’t want to put me in an impossible position.
You know, the whole, either destroy your career by going public with whatever you told me, or stay silent and watch Leena go down.
And I thank you for that.” She pauses, her eyes on mine.
“But here’s what I need to know. If you could go back, knowing everything that happened afterward, would you have blown the whistle yourself instead?
Would you have destroyed your own career rather than letting the board bury the incident?
So that Leena had a fighting chance, and we.
..” She trails off. “So that we’d still be together? ”
I set down my fork.
There it is. The question I’ve been asking myself for five years. The one that keeps me awake at three in the morning when the guilt gets loud enough to drown out everything else.
“Yes,” I say quietly. “I’d have burned my career if I’d known how things would end.”
Amara leans forward slightly. “You really mean that?”
“Without hesitation.” I meet her eyes. “I chose optics over honesty, and it cost everyone. Leena. You. The families who depended on her charity. I made a calculated decision to protect the firm’s reputation, and it was the wrong fucking call. I made billions. And lost everything in the process.”
“But you did try to stop it,” she counters. “Even if you didn’t tell me until recently.”
“Yes, but trying isn’t the same as succeeding.
” My hands curl into fists under the table.
“I wrote memos. I objected. I flagged the ethical concerns. And then I let Xavier bury it because I was too afraid of the fallout. Like I told you already. I don’t blame you for leaving me.
It was the right call. I looked guilty. Hell, I was guilty.
What I did was cowardice dressed up as strategy. ”
She’s quiet for a long time. Then she says, so softly I almost miss it, “You matter in this equation.”
I shake my head, flash a wan smile. “No, I don’t.”
“You do,” she insists. “To me.”
The words hit me somewhere deep inside, and I reach across the table without thinking.
My hand finds hers, and she lets me take it.
Her fingers are warm, and for a second I think maybe this is salvageable. Maybe we can build something from the wreckage.
Then she asks, “Why do I feel there’s something else you’re not telling me?”
And there’s the line.
I could lie.
Insist I’ve told her everything.
No.
I’m done lying.
Especially to her.
I pull my hand back slowly. “You asked if former board member Xavier Laurent is a problem. I brushed it off. But, he’s.
.. well, he’s a bigger pain in the ass than I originally let on.
Xavier is actively sabotaging us now.” I force myself to hold her gaze.
“He’s planting forged documents. Creating paper trails that make it look like I knew about Diana’s fraud all along and profited from it. ”
She leans forward slightly. “What? How long have you known?”
“Since before New Year’s. That’s why I came to Eleuthera.
To get distance while my legal team investigates.
” I run a hand through my hair. “And that’s part of why I asked you to co-lead the clinic.
Your reputation for integrity, the visibility of doing real work here, it helps counter the narrative Xavier’s building.
Buys me time to find proof before he destroys everything. ”
Her eyes narrow slightly. “So hiring me was strategic.”
“Partly,” I admit, because lying now would undo everything. “But not just that. The work matters. The families we’re helping matter. And you...” I pause. “You matter. More than the strategy ever did.”
She’s quiet, processing. “What does Xavier want?”
“Control of the foundation. And me destroyed in the process.” The words taste bitter.
“He’s positioning himself as the ‘ethical alternative’ to my leadership.
The board member who tried to stop me back then, who’s now fighting my ‘pattern of negligence.’ If his version goes public before we can prove he forged the documents, he wins.
The board will force me out and install him as chair.
Every program we fund, every family we’re helping here, all of it goes down when he takes control. ”
“What have you found so far?”
“Some of the forged emails. Trails that don’t match our actual document management systems. But I’m terrified we’re missing pieces. That he’s buried things too deep and we won’t find them until it’s too late.”
She squeezes my hand suddenly. “Then we keep looking. Together.”
Together.
The word should feel like relief.
Instead, it triggers every protective instinct inside me.
I pull back slightly, and I see her register the movement. “Amara, if this gets worse, if I lose control of the foundation, I don’t want you caught in the wreckage. Your reputation, your career, everything you’ve built—”
Her hand goes slack in mine. “So you’re already planning to push me away.”
“I’m trying to protect you,” I protest.
“No.” She stands abruptly, her chair scraping against the terrace stone.
“You’re doing what you always do. Exiling yourself before anyone else can leave first.” Her voice is steady but there’s steel underneath.
“I don’t need protecting, Corin. I need a partner who trusts me to make my own choices about risk! When are you going to trust me?”
I stand, too, but she’s already moving toward the terrace railing. Her shoulders are tight, and I recognize the posture. It’s the same one she had five years ago when she walked out of my life the first time.
“Amara—”
“I’m going back to my villa.” She’s not looking at me. Just staring out at the dark ocean like it holds answers I can’t give her.
“Please. Just stay. We can talk about this.”
“There’s nothing to talk about.” She turns, and the disappointment on her face guts me. “You finally tell me the truth, and then immediately decide I can’t handle the consequences. That’s not partnership. That’s you deciding for me what I can and can’t survive.”
She walks on, and I watch her disappear down the stone path toward the resort.
I should follow her.
Or tell Keon to bring the SUV around so I can chase her down and say something that would make a difference.
But what would I say?
That I’m sorry? She knows that already.
That I want her? She knows that, too.
That I’m terrified of dragging her down with me when Xavier finally makes his move? Pretty fucking obvious at this point.
Ahh.
Damn.
The worst part is, she’s fucking right.
Something bad happens, and I immediately try to exile myself to protect her from the fallout.
It’s the same pattern I’ve been running for five years.
The same strategic retreat that cost us everything the first time.
I sink back into my chair.
Pick at my food.
I need more time.
Just a little longer, to make things right.
On a whim, I pull out my phone, open my email, and start typing.
======================
To: Amara Khan, Marisol de la Cruz
Subject: Clinic Extension Request
======================
Marisol, Amara:
.
The pilot program has exceeded projections. I’d like to propose extending the clinic partnership for an additional week to finalize pending contracts and conduct follow-up workshops. Amara, your compensation would be adjusted proportionally. Please confirm availability.
.
Best,
Corin
======================
I read it three times. It’s professional, and more than reasonable. Gives her an out if she wants one.
And it’s complete bullshit.
What I really want to write is:
Please don’t leave. I know I keep trying to protect you by pushing you away and I know that’s the exact opposite of what you need.
I know I’m a disaster who can’t stop running his own personal self-destruction protocol.
But I’m trying. Please give me one more week to prove I can stop sabotaging the only good thing I’ve had in five years.
But that’s not a proposal.
That’s a confession.
And I’ve already made enough of those tonight.
I hit send.
Then I sit alone on the terrace, and watch the ocean turn black under a sky that doesn’t give a fuck about any of this.
This time, she doesn’t respond right away.
Last night it took her three minutes.
Now ten minutes pass, then twenty, then thirty.
After an hour passes, I have to wonder if she’ll respond at all.
It’s going to be a long night.