Chapter Sixteen
A Father on His Knees
Theo’s message stayed on my phone like a bruise.
It feels like it is.
I read it once.
Then again.
Then a third time, because pain had made me stupid and I kept thinking the words might change if I stared hard enough.
They did not.
My son thought this was his fault.
Serena’s lies. My affair. My father’s threats. Madeleine’s tears. The board war. The possible baby. All of it had landed on a fourteen-year-old boy who should have been angry about homework, not wondering if his family broke because he existed.
I sat in my office with my phone in both hands and did not know how to answer.
For years, I had answered everything.
Investors. Lawyers. reporters. Staff. Board members. My father.
Everyone came to me with panic, and I turned panic into instructions.
But my son’s pain had no instruction sheet.
Peter stood near the window, quiet.
Martin stood by the door, waiting for my next order.
I had none.
Finally, I typed.
Theo, none of this started with you. None of it belongs to you. I made adult choices that hurt you and your mother. You did not cause them.
I stopped.
That sounded clean.
Too clean.
Like a statement.
I deleted it.
Then I tried again.
Theo, I need you to hear this. I broke my vows. I lied. I made choices that hurt you and your mother. You did not make me do any of that. You are not the reason for any wound in this family. You are the best thing in it.
I stared at the words.
Then I sent them before I could polish them into something worse.
Three dots appeared.
Disappeared.
Appeared again.
Then his answer came.
If I’m the best thing, why did you risk me?
I bent forward in the chair.
A sound came out of me.
Not a sob.
Something lower.
Peter turned from the window.
“Bennett.”
I lifted one hand.
Do not.
He stayed quiet.
I typed with shaking fingers.
Because I was selfish. Because I thought I could keep my bad choices away from you. Because I lied to myself first. That is not an excuse. It is the truth.
Theo did not answer.
I deserved the silence.
My phone buzzed again, but this time it was not him.
Audrey Finch.
I answered so fast the phone almost slipped.
“Is he all right?” I asked.
“No,” Audrey said. “But he is with Madeleine.”
That was better than all right.
That was where he belonged.
“I answered him.”
“I know. He showed her.”
My throat tightened. “Was that wrong?”
“No. It was honest.”
Coming from Audrey, that sounded like praise and warning at the same time.
“Have you found out about Serena?”
“Yes.”
I went still.
Peter stepped closer.
Martin straightened near the door.
Audrey’s voice was sharp, but there was something under it now.
Satisfaction.
“The pregnancy test is real,” she said.
I closed my eyes.
“But it is not Serena’s.”
The room stopped.
“What?” I whispered.
“The test belongs to a woman named Daphne Hill. She works with Serena’s publicist. Daphne confirmed through her attorney that the photo came from her private clinic portal. Serena copied it, cropped it, and sent it as her own.”
I stood.
My legs felt unsteady.
“She is not pregnant?”
“We have no medical proof that Serena Mallory is pregnant. We have strong proof that the test she used was stolen from another woman.”
Peter let out a breath behind me.
Martin said nothing, but his eyes changed.
“How did you get Daphne to confirm?” I asked.
“Serena did not pay her. That helped.”
Despite everything, I almost laughed.
Audrey continued, “Daphne says Serena asked to borrow her phone yesterday, then the test image was copied. Daphne saw Serena’s video and called the clinic in panic. Her attorney contacted mine ten minutes ago.”
“Does Madeleine know?”
“Yes.”
My throat closed. “Theo?”
“She told him.”
I pressed one hand to the desk.
“How did he take it?”
Audrey was quiet.
“Tell me.”
“He said, ‘Good. So Dad only ruined one family.’”
I closed my eyes.
The words should have killed me.
Maybe they did.
Maybe the man I had been needed to die from them.
“Is he wrong?” I asked.
Audrey did not answer.
That was answer enough.
“What now?” I asked.
“Now Serena’s counsel has received notice. Your counsel has received notice. We are preparing a joint correction. Short. Legal. No drama.”
“Good.”
“And Bennett?”
“Yes?”
“Madeleine has agreed to let you speak with Theo.”
My heart stopped.
Not slowed.
Stopped.
“When?”
“This afternoon.”
“On the phone?”
“No. In person.”
I gripped the edge of the desk.
Peter looked at me carefully.
Martin did too.
“Where?” I asked.
“Neutral location in Vancouver. Family therapist’s office. Security controlled. No press. Madeleine will be in the building, but not in the room unless Theo asks. I will be present outside. The therapist will be present inside.”
I closed my eyes.
She was letting me see him.
Not because I deserved it.
Because Theo needed it.
That was Madeleine. Even bleeding, she still thought about what our son needed before what would hurt me most.
“I’ll be there,” I said.
“Do not come early.”
“I won’t.”
“Do not bring gifts.”
“I won’t.”
“Do not bring your father.”
My eyes opened.
“Audrey.”
“I had to say it.”
“He will never be near Theo with my permission again.”
“Good. Remember that sentence when it becomes hard to keep.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means Victor has already tried to reach the therapist’s office.”
My blood turned cold. “How did he know?”
“Excellent question.”
I looked at Martin.
He was already moving, phone in hand.
Audrey continued, “I changed the location twice. The final address will come to you thirty minutes before the meeting. If it leaks, the meeting is canceled.”
“It won’t leak from me.”
“I hope that is true.”
“It is.”
“Bennett.”
“What?”
“Hope is not a security plan.”
I almost smiled. “You sound like Martin.”
“Then Martin is smart.”
Martin lifted his brows from across the room.
I ended the call and looked at him.
“Find the leak.”
“I’m on it.”
Peter exhaled. “You have a meeting with Theo.”
“Yes.”
“You look terrified.”
“I am.”
“Good.”
I looked at him.
He shrugged. “Fear may stop you from talking too much.”
That was fair.
For the next four hours, I did not work.
Not really.
I sat through calls. I signed documents. I approved the legal correction about Serena’s false pregnancy claim. I watched Ewan Price say words like misappropriated medical image and unauthorized representation, and I hated that the clean language made it sound less cruel than it was.
Serena had not only lied about a baby.
She had placed a ghost baby between my wife and son and used it to make them bleed.
By noon, the correction was public.
The headlines changed again.
Serena Mallory pregnancy claim questioned.
Stolen test photo used in billionaire affair scandal.
Bennett Rourke responds through counsel.
Madeleine Hart remains silent.
Good.
Let Madeleine stay silent.
She had spoken enough truth last night to feed the world for years.
At one thirty, Audrey sent the address.
A family therapy office in Vancouver. Private entrance. Arrive at 2:05. Alone except Martin. No security detail visible.
I stared at the message.
Then I went to my private bathroom and looked in the mirror.
I had not slept.
I looked it.
Dark shadows under my eyes. Jaw rough. Suit clean because someone had laid it out, not because I deserved clean things.
I took off the tie.
Too formal.
I opened the collar.
Too casual.
I almost laughed at myself.
As if the right shirt could make my son less hurt.
Martin drove.
No convoy. No second car. No flashing lights of power. Just one black sedan through wet streets toward the place where my son waited to decide if he could stand to look at me.
Halfway there, my phone buzzed.
Theo.
Don’t hug me when you see me.
My chest tightened.
I typed back.
I won’t.
Another message came.
Don’t cry either.
I looked out the window and breathed until the burn behind my eyes eased.
I’ll try.
His reply came fast.
Try harder.
A broken laugh left me.
Martin glanced at me in the mirror.
“What?” he asked.
“He is his mother’s son.”
Martin’s mouth moved almost into a smile.
“Yes, sir.”
We reached the building at exactly 2:04.
Audrey stood under the covered side entrance in a gray coat, phone in hand, looking like she had been born to stop men at doors.
I got out.
She looked me over.
“No tie,” she said.
“I took it off.”
“Good. You looked too much like a defendant with it on.”
“I may become one.”
“Not today, if everyone behaves.”
I looked past her toward the door.
“Is he inside?”
“Yes.”
“Madeleine?”
“Inside too. Different room.”
My heart pulled toward the building.
Audrey saw it.
“No.”
“I wasn’t—”
“Yes, you were. With your face.”
I swallowed. “How is she?”
Audrey’s expression changed by one small inch.
“She is tired.”
That was all I got.
That was more than I deserved.
“Does she know the Serena claim is false?”
“She knows the test was stolen. We are not calling anything fully false until every medical and legal step is complete.”
“But she knows?”
“Yes.”
“Did it help?”
“No,” Audrey said. “It removed one knife. It did not heal the wound.”
I nodded.
The door opened behind her.
A woman in a brown cardigan stepped out. “Mr. Rourke?”
“Yes.”
“I’m Dr. Sloane Mercer.”
The name hit wrong for half a second because of all the women’s names now tied to pain, but her face was kind. Not soft. Kind.
“Theo is ready,” she said.
I was not.
But I walked inside.
The room was small. Warm. No cameras. No glass boardroom walls. A blue sofa. Two chairs. A low table with tissues and a wooden box full of smooth stones.
Theo sat on the sofa.
His hoodie was black. His hair was messy. His face was pale.
He looked at me.
I stopped just inside the door.
Every part of me wanted to cross the room and pull him into my arms.
I did not.
I put my hands in my pockets so he could see them stay there.
“Hi,” I said.
Stupid.
Small.
All I had.
Theo nodded once. “Hi.”