Chapter Six #3
He didn't walk over and sit beside her on the bench. He didn't loom over her. He simply stepped forward, and with a slow, deliberate motion, the titan of Lancaster-Tate Industrial dropped to his knees on the cold, gravel path directly in front of her.
Marcy’s breath hitched slightly at the visual. Kade Lancaster did not kneel for anyone. He bowed to no one. But here he was, on the dirt path of a public park, looking up at her from the ground.
"I heard the tape," Kade said, his voice a broken, raspy whisper that barely carried over the wind. He looked up at her, his eyes shining with unshed tears. "I heard Gabriela. I heard what she did."
Marcy looked down at the man she had loved for her entire life. She looked at the dark hair she used to run her fingers through, the strong jawline, the eyes that used to look at her with such warmth.
"I know you did, Kade," Marcy replied, her voice soft, calm, and detached. "Connor and Leon would have told you."
Kade swallowed hard, a tremor running through his frame. "Marcy... I am so sorry. I am so deeply, unforgivably sorry. I was blind. I was a monster to you. I let them treat you like a villain, and I treated you like a parasite, and all you did was try to save us."
"Yes," Marcy agreed simply. She didn't offer a platitude. She didn't tell him it was okay. She simply acknowledged the truth of his cruelty.
"I know I don't deserve it," Kade pleaded, reaching out with a trembling hand, though he stopped inches from touching her knee, terrified she would pull away.
"I know an apology is completely empty after what I put you through.
But I swear to God, Marcy, I will spend the rest of my life making it up to you.
I will do whatever it takes. I will build you whatever life you want.
Just please... give me one chance. Let me show you that the boy you grew up with is still here. "
Marcy looked at him. She saw the tears finally spill over his eyelashes, tracking down his pale cheeks. She felt deep sadness for him, for the waste of the last two years, for the love that had been so violently extinguished.
But that was all she felt. Sadness.
"I accept your apology, Kade," Marcy said softly, her voice carrying the gentle, soothing tone she used to use to calm him down when they were children. "I truly do. I forgive you."
Kade let out a ragged, desperate sob of relief, his head bowing forward.
"But," Marcy continued, her voice remaining steady, "I cannot offer you anything else."
Kade’s head snapped up, the relief instantly morphing into sheer panic. "Marcy, please..."
"You asked for a chance to show me the boy I grew up with," Marcy said, her eyes filled with a quiet, tragic wisdom.
"But that boy died two years ago in that hospital waiting room, Kade.
When you looked at me with such hatred...
when you let Camille strike me... you killed him.
And you killed the girl who loved him, too. "
"No," Kade breathed, shaking his head frantically. "No, I can fix it. I can fix this, Marcy. Please."
Marcy stood up from the bench, clutching her paperback novel to her chest. She looked down at the broken, weeping billionaire kneeling in the dirt.
"You can't fix a foundation that has been completely destroyed, Kade," Marcy whispered, offering him a sad, final smile. "I am leaving. And I hope, one day, you find peace."
She turned and walked away down the gravel path, the sound of her footsteps fading into the quiet evening, leaving Kade Lancaster kneeling in the dark, alone.
The small house was warm, smelling of chamomile tea and the faint, citrus scent of cleaning supplies.
Marcy walked through the front door, locking the deadbolt behind her with a soft click. She hung her coat on the rack and walked into the living room.
Kinsley was sitting on the sofa, her legs pulled up beneath her, awkwardly attempting to flip the pages of a travel magazine with her left hand. She looked up as Marcy entered, her chaotic eyes immediately scanning her friend’s face for distress.
"He was there," Kinsley stated. It wasn't a question.
"He was in the park," Marcy nodded, walking over and sinking into the plush cushions beside Kinsley. She let out a long, exhale, the tension of the encounter finally leaving her body. "He knelt in the gravel, Kins. He cried."
"Cruz was at the café," Kinsley admitted softly, dropping the magazine onto the coffee table. "He looked like he hadn't slept in a month. He begged."
They sat in the quiet, warmly lit room, the shadows of the legacy families finally, truly banished from their sanctuary.
"Are you okay?" Marcy asked, turning to look at her soul sister.
Kinsley leaned her head on Marcy’s shoulder, her cast resting in her lap. "I am. I really am Marce. I told him I forgave him, but I didn't want him in my life. I don't want anything to do with the Lancaster, Tate, or Monroe families ever again."
Marcy rested her head against Kinsley’s chaotic curls, a deep, unshakeable peace settling into her bones.
"I agree," Marcy whispered into the quiet room. "We are done."