Chapter 4 - THE WOMAN WHO STOLE A LIFERobert arrived at Oliver's apartment less than an hour later.
Victoria had called him.
Oliver opened the door.
Robert looked at him.
For a moment, neither spoke.
Then Robert said,
“I'm sorry.”
Oliver looked away.
“You've said that already.”
“I know.”
“It doesn't fix anything.”
“I know.”
Oliver stepped aside.
Robert entered.
The apartment was small.
On the wall was Clara's photograph.
Robert stopped.
He stared at her.
She looked exactly as he remembered.
Same smile.
Same eyes.
Same warmth.
Robert touched the frame.
“She kept this?”
Oliver nodded.
“She kept everything.”
Robert's eyes filled with tears.
Oliver watched him.
“You don't get to cry.”
Robert looked at him.
“Why?”
“Because you left.”
“I know.”
“You chose money.”
“I know.”
“You chose her.”
Robert looked toward Victoria.
“Yes.”
Victoria stood near the doorway.
Oliver asked,
“Did you threaten my mother?”
Victoria closed her eyes.
“Yes.”
Robert stared at her.
“You did?”
“I was twenty-four.”
“You knew she was pregnant.”
“Yes.”
“You knew she was my daughter?”
“Our son.”
Victoria corrected herself.
Robert looked devastated.
“Why?”
Victoria began crying.
“Because I loved you.”
“No.”
Robert shook his head.
“That wasn't love.”
Victoria looked at him.
“I was terrified.”
“So you destroyed another woman's life?”
“I thought she would leave.”
“She did.”
“I didn't know she would disappear.”
Oliver stepped forward.
“She didn't disappear.”
Victoria looked at him.
“She spent thirty years struggling.”
Oliver's voice cracked.
“She worked three jobs.”
“She raised me alone.”
“She died believing the man she loved had abandoned her.”
Victoria covered her face.
Robert looked at the floor.
“I would have come back.”
Oliver laughed bitterly.
“When?”
Robert had no answer.
Oliver walked to a drawer.
He removed another envelope.
“This was for you.”
Robert took it.
“Why didn't you give it to me at the gala?”
“Because I needed to know whether you were worth it.”
Robert opened the letter.
Clara's handwriting.
Robert,
If our son ever finds you, I hope you don't blame him.
He deserves to know who his father is.
I don't want revenge.
I only want him to know that he was loved.
Robert couldn't continue reading.
He pressed the letter against his chest.
Victoria whispered,
“She never hated you.”
Oliver nodded.
“She told me not to.”
Robert looked at him.
“Can I be part of your life?”
Oliver didn't answer immediately.
Then he said,
“I don't know.”
Robert nodded.
“I understand.”
Oliver stared at him.
“But you can try.”
Robert's face broke.
He nodded.
“I will.”
Then Oliver looked at Victoria.
“You can't be part of this.”
Victoria flinched.
“I understand.”
She walked out.
Outside, she stopped.
For the first time, she understood that money couldn't buy back the years she had stolen.
But Robert wasn't finished.
The investigator had discovered one final piece of evidence.
Richard Hale had kept a private ledger.
And inside it was proof that Victoria had not only intercepted Clara's letters.
She had also paid someone to follow her.
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For thirty years, the truth had been hidden.
Now it was finally coming out.
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