Chapter 16
Three years after the final hearing, Leo asked why Javier had never written to him.
He was fourteen now.
Mia was eleven.
The question came during breakfast while Dante was reading a quarterly report and Mia was attempting to convince the cook that chocolate chips counted as fruit.
“Did you tell him he couldn’t contact us?”
Dante lowered the report.
“Yes.”
“For forever?”
“No.”
“Then why hasn’t he?”
“Because the last agreement was that contact would happen only if your therapist believed it was appropriate and either of you wanted it.”
Leo frowned.
“So he’s waiting?”
“As far as I know.”
Mia stopped eating.
“I don’t want a letter.”
Dante looked at her.
“Okay.”
Leo looked toward his sister.
“I might.”
“That’s weird.”
“Mia.”
“I’m not saying he can’t. I’m saying I don’t.”
The distinction mattered.
Three years earlier, Dante might have tried to keep the children aligned because one family decision felt easier than two different ones.
Now he called Dr. Hannah Price.
Leo spoke with her separately.
Mia did too.
The result was simple.
Leo could receive one written apology.
Mia would receive nothing unless she changed her mind.
Claire contacted Javier’s attorney.
The letter arrived two weeks later.
No gifts.
No photographs.
Four handwritten pages.
Leo read them alone first.
Then he brought them to Dante.
The opening sentence said:
I put my hands on you because I was afraid you were holding evidence that would expose what I had done.
Not because Leo disrespected him.
Not because he panicked.
Not because family business was complicated.
Because Javier had made a choice.
He described grabbing the envelope.
Forcing Leo down.
Shoving Mia away.
Then came the part Leo read twice.
I had spent years being treated like my position meant people moved when I told them to move. When you did not give me the envelope, I treated your refusal like something I had the right to overcome physically. That belief was wrong before I ever touched you.
Leo looked at Dante.
“Did he write this with a therapist?”
“Probably.”
“That doesn’t mean it’s fake.”
“No.”
The final paragraph contained no request for forgiveness.
Javier wrote that if Leo never wanted contact, he would accept it.
Leo placed the letter on the table.
“I want to ask him one question.”
“What?”
“If his project hadn’t needed the money, would he have told you about Clara?”
Dante understood why.
That was the part Javier’s apology could not answer from paper.
The financial crime had become useful to him only after his own project failed.
If it had not failed, would Javier have exposed Clara?
Or would he have kept the secret because keeping family peace was easier?
Dante did not answer for him.
“I can ask Dr. Price about a meeting.”
“One meeting.”
“Okay.”
Mia appeared in the doorway.
“You’re really going?”
“Yes.”
She looked uncomfortable.
Leo immediately said:
“You don’t have to.”
“I know.”
“You’re mad?”
“No.”
“That sounded mad.”
Mia crossed her arms.
“I don’t want him thinking because you forgive him, I do.”
“I didn’t say I forgive him.”
“What if you do?”
Leo shrugged.
“Then I do.”
Mia stared at him.
Dante waited.
Neither child needed him to make their feelings match.
Finally Mia said:
“Fine.”
Then pointed at Leo.
“But don’t tell him I said hello.”
“I wasn’t going to.”
“Good.”
She walked away.
Leo looked at Dante.
“She’s definitely mad.”
“She’s allowed.”
“At me?”
“Probably partly.”
“That’s annoying.”
“Also allowed.”
Leo picked up Javier’s letter.
Three years earlier, an envelope had put his face into the grass.
This one sat quietly in his hands.
He could read it.
Fold it.
Keep it.
Throw it away.
May you like
No adult was trying to take it from him.
That difference mattered more than anything Javier had written inside.
