Victor stood abruptly, breath unsteady. He looked at Elena, who was crying silently now.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked.
Her voice shook. “Because you told me people like me didn’t belong in your world.”
The memory surged back—six years ago, whiskey on his breath, his father’s death, a scandal closing in. Elena standing in his study, hands trembling.
“I’m pregnant, sir.”
“How much do you want?” he’d snapped. “You don’t belong in my life. Pack your things. You’re fired.”
He’d turned away.
Now, in the middle of the terminal, the weight of it crushed him.
“Cancel the flight,” Victor said suddenly.
Evan froze. “Sir?”
“Everything,” Victor said. “Go.”
He sat beside Elena on the bench. Plastic pressed through his coat.
“Where are you going?” he asked quietly.
“Milwaukee,” she said. “A couch. A cleaning job.”
He swallowed.
“You’ve been alone all this time?”
She nodded. “I tried to call once. When they were sick. Your office laughed.”
Guilt burned through him.
He pulled out a black card. “Please. Take this.”
She pushed his hand away. “Don’t insult us. Money won’t fix six years.”
The boarding call echoed.
Elena stood, lifting their battered suitcase.
“Goodbye, Victor.”