Chapter 9 - The Life After Survival
Three months later, Bridget stood outside the nursing school administration building holding an acceptance letter.
She had read it 7 times.
Victor waited beside the car.
“You’re frowning.”
“I’m thinking.”
“You do that aggressively.”
She looked at him.
“Full tuition?”
“Yes.”
“No.”
Victor sighed.
“We’ve discussed this.”
“You discussed it. I rejected it.”
“Technically, the scholarship is from the Lacombe Community Medical Foundation.”
“Which did not exist 2 months ago.”
“It exists now.”
“Victor.”
“It is funding 14 students.”
Bridget paused.
“Fourteen?”
“Fifteen if you stop being difficult.”
She tried not to smile.
Failed.
“You created an entire scholarship program because I wouldn’t let you pay my tuition?”
“It seemed efficient.”
“That is the least efficient solution imaginable.”
“It solved the problem.”
She kissed him.
Victor looked pleased with himself.
“Do not interpret that as victory.”
“Too late.”
Life after Mercer was strange.
There were hearings.
Investigations.
News cameras.
Several of Victor’s companies underwent restructuring.
Old criminal partnerships were dissolved.
Mercer faced charges connected not only to financial crimes and kidnapping but to Daniel and Luca’s deaths.
Victor testified.
That cost him.
Bridget sat behind him throughout every hearing.
Sometimes Pippa drew pictures in the courthouse waiting room.
Sometimes Victor woke at night remembering things he never described.
Bridget never forced him.
She simply stayed.
Victor was learning to stay too.
That was harder.
He had spent years believing love was an exposed nerve someone would eventually cut.
Pippa did not allow such philosophy.
She had practical concerns.
“Can Victor come to parent day?”
Bridget nearly choked on coffee.
“Why?”
“Everyone brings somebody.”
“I’ll be there.”
“I know.”
Pippa looked at Victor.
“But he doesn’t have kids.”
Victor stopped reading.
“That has traditionally been considered a requirement for parent day.”
“You can borrow me.”
Bridget laughed.
Victor did not.
He looked at Pippa for several seconds.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“Then I’d be honored.”
The parent day nearly destroyed Vancouver’s most intimidating businessman.
Pippa’s teacher asked visitors to introduce themselves.
Victor stood before 22 children.
“My name is Victor.”
A boy raised his hand.
“Are you Pippa’s dad?”
Victor froze.
Pippa answered.
“Not yet.”
Bridget, standing in the back, nearly dropped her phone.
Victor slowly turned.
Pippa continued coloring.
The teacher became fascinated with a stack of worksheets.
On the drive home, Bridget said nothing.
Victor said nothing.
Pippa sang.
That evening, Victor stood on Bridget’s balcony.
She joined him.
“You’ve been weird since school.”
“I am often weird.”
“No. You’re usually brooding. Different category.”
Victor smiled.
Then became serious.
“Not yet.”
Bridget knew exactly what he meant.
“She’s 6.”
“Children say what adults are afraid to.”
Bridget leaned against the railing.
“Victor.”
“I’m not asking anything.”
“Good.”
“I’m thinking.”
“You do that aggressively.”
He laughed.
She had stolen his line.
Then Victor grew quiet.
“I spent years believing my punishment for Daniel and Luca was to have no family.”
Bridget took his hand.
“That was never punishment. It was hiding.”
“I know that now.”
She looked at him.
“What changed?”
Victor’s answer was immediate.
“Your daughter asked if I was scared.”
Bridget smiled.
“And you lied.”
“Yes.”
“What would you say now?”
Victor looked through the glass.
Pippa was asleep on the couch with Teddy, recovered from Mercer’s vehicle after the arrest.
“Yes.”
He squeezed Bridget’s hand.
“I’m terrified.”
“Of what?”
“Wanting this.”
Bridget stepped closer.
“Good.”
He frowned.
“Good?”
“Means you understand it matters.”
Victor kissed her forehead.
For several quiet weeks, happiness became ordinary.
Then Bridget received a letter.
No return address.
Inside was a photograph.
Victor.
Daniel.
A young woman Bridget did not recognize.
On the back were handwritten words.
ASK VICTOR WHAT REALLY HAPPENED THE NIGHT DANIEL DIED.
Bridget stared at it.
When Victor came home, she placed the photograph on the table.
His face drained.
“Who is she?”
Victor did not answer immediately.
Bridget’s stomach tightened.
“Victor.”
“My sister.”
Bridget stared.
“You have a sister?”
“Had.”
“What happened?”
“She disappeared 9 years ago.”
“And you never mentioned her?”
“I believed she was dead.”
Bridget turned the photograph over.
“Someone doesn’t.”
Victor read the message.
For a long moment, neither spoke.
Then his phone rang.
Unknown number.
Victor answered.
A woman’s voice spoke.
“Hello, big brother.”
Victor went completely still.
Bridget watched his face collapse into disbelief.
The woman continued.
“You finally destroyed Mercer.”
A pause.
“Now maybe we can talk about who created him.”
The line went dead.
Victor stared at the phone.
Bridget touched his arm.
“Victor?”
May you like
His voice was barely audible.
“Celeste is alive.”
