Chapter 19 - Charles Finally Told the BeginningCharles Voss agreed to a formal interview.
Grant attended remotely.
“Did you place Richard Vale inside Harrison Medical?”
Charles did not deny it.
“Yes.”
Grant felt anger rise.
“Why?”
“Your father and I were negotiating.”
“A merger?”
“No.”
“What?”
“A joint research venture.”
Grant frowned.
His father had never mentioned it.
Charles continued.
“Your father distrusted private equity. I distrusted family-owned companies.”
“Sounds productive.”
“We argued.”
“Then?”
“I wanted someone inside Harrison who understood how your father thought.”
“So you planted Richard.”
“I recommended him.”
“You knew he reported to you.”
“Yes.”
Grant stared.
“Corporate espionage.”
“In effect.”
“And when did it stop?”
Charles looked away.
“That’s the problem.”
Grant waited.
“I thought Richard was loyal to me.”
Of course.
“And?”
“He realized information was more valuable than either company.”
Grant leaned back.
“When?”
“Years later.”
“Before Emma?”
“Yes.”
“Did Richard know she was your daughter?”
“Not from me.”
“Then how?”
Charles’s face changed.
“I believe he found old legal records.”
“So he discovered Emma married me.”
“Yes.”
“And he saw opportunity.”
“Yes.”
Grant laughed bitterly.
“You created him.”
Charles accepted it.
“Yes.”
“Then watched him manipulate your daughter.”
“I didn’t know until Emma contacted me.”
“And you still kept everything secret.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Charles’s expression tightened.
“Because I was ashamed.”
Grant nearly laughed.
There it was again.
Shame.
Fear.
Pride.
The three excuses that had nearly destroyed everyone.
“Emma asked whether Richard worked for me.”
“What did you say?”
“The truth.”
“That you planted him.”
“Yes.”
Grant imagined Emma learning that her biological father secretly placed a man inside her husband’s company.
No wonder she panicked.
“She thought I was part of the conspiracy,” Charles said.
“Reasonable.”
“Yes.”
“How did you convince her otherwise?”
“I didn’t.”
Grant went still.
“She died still unsure.”
Charles’s eyes filled.
“Yes.”
For once, Grant felt something close to pity.
Not forgiveness.
Pity.
Charles continued.
“That is why I became obsessed with proving Richard did it.”
“And Rose became part of your obsession.”
“Yes.”
“You told yourself taking Rose would repair what happened with Emma.”
Charles closed his eyes.
“Yes.”
“It wouldn’t.”
“I know.”
Grant shook his head.
“You had two years to knock on my door.”
“You would have refused me.”
“Maybe.”
“I couldn’t risk that.”
Grant stared.
“And that is why Emma kept you away.”
Charles nodded.
Silence.
Then Grant said:
“Rose may someday want to know you.”
Charles looked up.
Hope appeared instantly.
Grant held up a hand.
“Do not misunderstand.”
Charles went still.
“You will not contact her.”
His face fell.
“You will not send gifts.”
Silence.
“You will not watch her.”
Charles looked ashamed.
“You will not have people photograph her.”
“Yes.”
“If, when she is older and with professional guidance, Rose wants to know about Emma’s biological father, that choice will be hers.”
Charles’s eyes filled.
“Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me.”
Grant’s voice hardened.
“This is not access.”
“I understand.”
“It is a boundary.”
Charles nodded.
Grant leaned forward.
“Prove you can respect one.”
The interview ended.
For the first time, Grant understood something Emma had seen years earlier.
Danger did not always look like hatred.
Sometimes danger said:
I love you too much to accept no.
Richard controlled people through fear.
Charles controlled them through ownership disguised as love.
Vanessa controlled Rose through withdrawal.
Different methods.
Same violation.
The belief that another person’s feelings gave you the right to decide their life.
Grant returned home.
Rose ran toward him carrying the repaired bouquet.
The flowers had wilted.
She refused to throw them away.
“Daddy!”
He picked her up.
“Hi.”
“Look.”
She showed him one rose.
“It’s crunchy.”
Grant laughed.
“It definitely is.”
“Can we keep it forever?”
“Maybe we can press the petals.”
“What’s that?”
“I’ll show you.”
They sat at the kitchen table.
Grant placed the petals between sheets of paper.
Rose watched carefully.
“Will it still be a flower?”
“Sort of.”
“Even broken?”
Grant looked at her.
“Yes.”
She smiled.
“Good.”
He had spent days thinking about everything stolen from her.
Trust.
Safety.
A woman she called Mommy.
But Rose did not need him to build her entire identity around what happened.
She needed safety.
Truth.
And permission to remain four years old.
Then Rose touched his hand.
“Daddy?”
“Yes?”
“Can I tell you a secret?”
“Always.”
“I lied.”
Grant’s heart stopped.
“About what?”
“The phone.”
“What about it?”
May you like
She lowered her voice.
“I didn’t press the button by accident.”
