Chapter 9 - James’s Last Ten Minutes
The truth was worse than the lie.
James survived the crash with a fractured leg and internal injuries.
A passing motorist called emergency services.
Before paramedics arrived, another vehicle stopped.
Security footage from a distant gas station captured it.
Richard Cole's car.
Adrian couldn't speak.
His father had reached James first.
For years, we assumed Richard covered up James's death afterward.
The truth was different.
Richard found his son alive.
James begged him to expose Whitmore and Mercer.
Richard refused.
They argued.
Then James lost consciousness.
Richard had a choice.
Call immediately for help.
Or retrieve the evidence James carried.
He chose the evidence.
He searched James's coat.
His car.
His briefcase.
He wasted eleven minutes.
By the time he finally called emergency services, James had stopped breathing.
Doctors later concluded those eleven minutes might have made the difference.
Richard hadn't murdered James with his hands.
But he had chosen his empire before his dying son.
Adrian broke.
Not publicly.
Not dramatically.
He simply disappeared into James's old room and locked the door.
I waited.
After three hours, I knocked.
No answer.
I entered anyway.
Adrian sat on the floor holding James's journal.
“I spent my entire life trying to become the man my father respected.”
I sat beside him.
“He wasn't worth becoming.”
“I know that now.”
“You aren't him.”
“How do you know?”
“Because when Nora was kidnapped, you offered everything without hesitation.”
He looked at me.
“You chose her.”
His eyes filled.
I took his hand.
“You choose people, Adrian. Your father chose power. That's the difference.”
He cried then.
Quietly.
For James.
For Richard.
For the mother he'd misunderstood.
For the brother he couldn't save.
And maybe for the boy he'd been.
Our wedding remained scheduled.
But two days before it, Adrian came to me.
“Do you want to postpone?”
“Do you?”
“I don't know.”
That was the most honest answer he could have given.
So we didn't postpone.
We changed the ceremony.
Instead of two hundred guests, there were twenty-seven.
The same number of people who had witnessed Nora make Adrian laugh.
Mrs. Holloway attended.
Marcus.
Rebecca.
Evelyn.
Several staff members who had become family.
Nora was flower girl.
Naturally, she ignored instructions.
Halfway down the aisle, she stopped.
“Wait!”
Everyone froze.
She ran backward.
Returned carrying a framed photograph.
James.
She placed it on an empty chair in the front row.
“There.”
I couldn't breathe.
Adrian covered his mouth.
Nora nodded with satisfaction.
“Daddy needs seat.”
There wasn't a dry eye in the garden.
Then Nora walked toward us.
Adrian crouched.
She whispered something.
He laughed.
Later, I asked what she'd said.
“She told me not to mess up.”
“Good advice.”
“I thought so.”
We exchanged vows beneath an old oak tree.
Adrian didn't promise perfection.
Neither did I.
We promised honesty.
After everything the Cole family had survived, honesty felt sacred.
When Adrian kissed me, Nora yelled, “Finally!”
Everyone laughed.
That evening, after the guests left, we sat outside.
Nora slept between us beneath a blanket.
Adrian looked toward James's photograph.
“Do you ever wonder what he'd think?”
“Constantly.”
“And?”
I smiled.
“He'd make fun of your vows.”
“Definitely.”
“He'd complain about the wine.”
“Obviously.”
“And he'd be happy Nora has you.”
Adrian looked down at her.
“I hope so.”
“He would.”
Then Nora stirred.
Her eyes opened.
“Daddy?”
My heart tightened.
She was looking toward James's photograph.
I touched her hair.
“What, sweetheart?”
She rubbed her eyes.
“I dreamed Daddy said something.”
Adrian and I exchanged a glance.
“What did he say?”
Nora yawned.
“He said Uncle Adrian finally listened.”
Adrian froze.
“To what?”
But Nora was already asleep again.
I smiled through tears.
“Maybe James got the last word.”
Adrian looked at the stars.
“He usually did.”
Our story could have ended there.
For a while, I believed it had.
Then, three months after our wedding, I woke before dawn and ran to the bathroom.
Adrian followed.
“Are you sick?”
“No.”
“You look sick.”
“Thank you.”
I stared at the pregnancy test in my hand.
Two lines.
Adrian followed my gaze.
His entire body became still.
“Emily.”
I began crying.
He began laughing.
And then a tiny voice came from the doorway.
Nora stood there with tangled hair and Mr. Buttons beneath one arm.
She looked at the test.
Then at us.
“What's that?”
I knelt.
“Nora, you're going to be a big sister.”
Her eyes widened.
Then she screamed so loudly half the house woke up.
But one question remained.
May you like
Could a family built from so much loss finally learn how to live without fear?
We were about to find out.
