The long antique table remained, but no one sat at its head.
Families shared it.
At the entrance hung a framed photograph from the Atlantic gala.
Not the moment I descended the staircase.
Not Grant’s shattered glass.
The photograph showed dozens of Holloway Meridian employees returning to work after the restructuring protected their jobs.
Below it were the words:
POWER IS NOT PROVEN BY WHO SERVES YOU.
IT IS PROVEN BY WHO REMAINS SAFE WHEN YOU MAKE A DECISION.
I stepped onto the terrace.
The ocean was dark beyond the lawn.
My father joined me.
“Do you miss him?” he asked.
Grant.
He did not need to say the name.
“Sometimes I miss who I believed he was.”
“That is not the same thing.”
“No.”
“Do you regret hiding Bellamy from him?”
I thought carefully.
“I regret believing secrecy could test love.”
My father waited.
“People should be trusted with truth before they are trusted with your life.”
