Chapter 14 - Richard Asked Me for a Chance I Did Not Owe Him
Eight months after Lily’s ruined birthday, Richard and I sat in a counselor’s office.
He no longer lived at the mansion.
Olivia did.
For now.
Bennett Events survived, but smaller.
Vanessa remained involved under new financial controls.
Richard stepped away from day-to-day operations while the reviews concluded.
He had lost money.
Status.
Family certainty.
None of that was the consequence that mattered most to me.
He had lost access to our daily life.
Lily saw him on a structured schedule we had agreed to with professional guidance.
He showed up.
Every time.
That mattered.
Then he asked:
“Can I come home?”
“No.”
His face fell.
“Ever?”
“I don’t know.”
“I’ve done everything.”
I looked at him.
There it was.
The same transactional thinking Olivia had taught all of them.
“I need you to stop saying that.”
“What?”
“I’ve done everything.”
He looked confused.
“Therapy isn’t payment.”
“I know.”
“Cooperating with the audit isn’t payment.”
“I know.”
“Apologizing to me isn’t payment.”
“I know.”
“Then why list it?”
He went quiet.
Finally:
“Because I want there to be something I can do.”
That was more honest.
“I know.”
“I hate not being able to fix it.”
“That may be the thing you actually have to learn.”
Richard looked down.
For years, the Bennetts fixed discomfort with money, pressure, secrecy, or control.
Apologies were supposed to reset everything.
Contracts replaced trust.
Family loyalty erased consent.
Now there was no button.
No deadline.
No amount of good behavior guaranteed that I would want him back.
Then he asked:
“Do you still love me?”
I thought carefully.
“Yes.”
His eyes lifted.
“But I don’t trust you.”
He nodded.
That hurt him.
It hurt me too.
“Which one matters more?”
“For marriage?”
I looked at him.
“Trust.”
He accepted that.
Before leaving, he asked whether he could attend Lily’s fifth birthday party.
I said:
“Ask her.”
He did.
Lily thought for several seconds.
Then said yes.
That was her relationship.
May you like
Her choice.
As for mine, the answer remained unwritten.
