Chapter 6 - THE QUESTION SOPHIA HAD BEEN SAVING
The first counseling session was a disaster.
Mark joined eleven minutes late.
Sophia noticed.
The therapist noticed.
I noticed.
Maya only smiled when his face appeared on the screen.
“Daddy!”
“Hey, bug.”
The therapist was Dr. Helen Morris, a calm woman in her fifties who had the unnerving ability to let silence become more uncomfortable than any accusation.
“Mr. Vance,” she said, “thank you for joining us.”
“Sorry. Work.”
Sophia looked down.
Dr. Morris turned to her.
“What happened in your body when your dad came in late?”
Mark frowned.
“What kind of question is that?”
“A useful one.”
Sophia shrugged.
“I knew he would.”
Mark’s face changed.
“What does that mean?”
“It means I knew you’d be late.”
“I said I was sorry.”
“You always are after.”
Dr. Morris raised a hand gently.
“Mark, try not to defend yet.”
“I’m not defending.”
“You are.”
He leaned back.
“Fine.”
She looked at Sophia.
“What would you like your dad to understand?”
Sophia did not answer.
Maya swung her legs beneath the chair.
“I want Daddy to come to Canada more.”
Mark smiled sadly.
“I will.”
Sophia looked at him.
“When?”
“Soon.”
“What date?”
He hesitated.
“I have to check work.”
Sophia looked at Dr. Morris.
“That.”
Dr. Morris nodded.
“What would feel different?”
“If he said a date.”
Mark exhaled.
“I can’t promise a date if I don’t know.”
“Then don’t say soon.”
He looked at his daughter.
She continued.
“Soon means nothing.”
I had never heard her say that.
Mark had.
He looked wounded.
Dr. Morris turned to Maya.
“What do you want your dad to know?”
Maya thought seriously.
“I don’t like blue balloons.”
Mark blinked.
“Why?”
“Because everybody had blue balloons when you didn’t come see us.”
His face fell.
“I didn’t know you saw that.”
“We see lots of things,” Sophia said.
Dr. Morris leaned forward.
“Sophia, there’s something you want to ask.”
My daughter froze.
“How do you know?”
“Because you keep looking at your dad and stopping yourself.”
Sophia’s hands tightened in her lap.
Mark leaned closer to the camera.
“Ask me.”
She looked at me.
I nodded.
She looked back at him.
“Do you love the baby more than us?”
Mark immediately shook his head.
“No.”
“Then why did you say he made your family real?”
He swallowed.
“I said something stupid.”
“Why?”
“I was angry.”
“At who?”
“Your mom.”
I felt my shoulders stiffen.
Sophia did not look at me.
“So you hurt us because you were mad at Mom?”
“I didn’t know you heard.”
“That doesn’t answer.”
Mark looked helplessly at Dr. Morris.
She said nothing.
He had to answer himself.
“I was selfish.”
Sophia waited.
“I was excited about having a son.”
“Why?”
“Because…”
He stopped.
“Because Grandpa always talked about the Vance name.”
Sophia’s mouth tightened.
“So Grandpa wanted a boy.”
“Yes.”
“And Grandma.”
“Yes.”
“And Aunt Patricia.”
He sighed.
“Yes.”
“And you.”
Mark looked directly at her.
“I thought I did.”
Sophia’s eyes filled.
“What does that mean?”
“It means I thought having a son would give me something I was missing.”
“What?”
He looked down.
“I don’t know.”
“Then why did we have to feel bad for it?”
That question silenced everyone.
Mark rubbed both hands over his face.
“You didn’t.”
“But we did.”
“I know.”
“No, you don’t.”
“Sophia.”
“You still have us.”
Her voice cracked.
“You still get to call. You still know where we are. You still get pictures from Mom.”
Mark stared at her.
“But we don’t have you.”
I had to look away.
Dr. Morris’s voice softened.
“What does ‘have you’ mean, Sophia?”
“It means when Maya lost her tooth, Dad wasn’t there.”
Mark closed his eyes.
“It means when I got ninety-eight on my math test, Mom told him and he sent a thumbs-up.”
Mark’s face crumpled slightly.
“It means he sends presents, but I don’t know what his kitchen looks like now.”
She wiped her cheek angrily.
“And he’s going to know everything about the new baby.”
Mark whispered, “I’m sorry.”
Sophia shook her head.
“I don’t want sorry.”
“What do you want?”
She stared at him.
“I want you to know me.”
That was the first real change.
Not forgiveness.
Not reunion.
A requirement.
After the session, Mark called me privately.
“I didn’t know she felt like that.”
“I did.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“She did.”
“No, she didn’t.”
“She said you never show up.”
“That’s not the same.”
“It was.”
He stared at me through the screen.
“You could have explained.”
“I spent twelve years explaining everyone to you.”
“Elena.”
“No.”
I softened my voice.
“Sophia doesn’t need an interpreter. She needs a father who listens the first time.”
Mark looked exhausted.
“The audit is bad.”
I paused.
“How bad?”
He laughed bitterly.
“You really don’t know?”
“No.”
“They asked about Blue Crest.”
“What did Chloe say?”
“That it’s normal vendor stuff.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
“She says one of her former colleagues owns it.”
“Which colleague?”
“She won’t say until she talks to counsel.”
That was enough to make my stomach tighten.
“Mark.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
“Yes.”
“Then hire independent counsel for the company.”
“She thinks I should use her lawyer.”
“No.”
He looked at me sharply.
“Why?”
“Because her interests may not be yours.”
He stared at the screen.
“You really think she stole from me.”
“I think you should stop making decisions based on who you sleep beside.”
He flinched.
“That was low.”
“It was practical.”
He leaned back.
“What would you do?”
The question surprised both of us.
“What?”
“If this were Sterling.”
“I’d separate personal relationships from the investigation.”
“How?”
“Independent attorney. Independent forensic accountant. Preserve documents. Restrict payment authority until ownership is verified.”
He nodded slowly.
“Anything else?”
“Yes.”
“What?”
“Don’t tell Chloe what the auditors are looking for.”
“She’s my partner.”
“She’s also the executive who established the vendors.”
“She’s a consultant.”
“Then she has even less reason to control the investigation.”
Mark rubbed his forehead.
“I hate that you’re right.”
“I don’t care.”
He almost smiled.
Then his face became serious.
“Elena.”
“What?”
“I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
He looked away.
“For making you do this for years.”
I said nothing.
“For asking your advice after treating your judgment like it was a nuisance.”
Still I said nothing.
He swallowed.
“I understand if that doesn’t matter.”
“It matters.”
His eyes lifted.
“It just doesn’t repair anything.”
“I know.”
Two days later, Mark hired independent counsel.
By Monday, Vance Construction suspended Chloe’s payment authority.
She called him screaming.
I learned about it because he phoned me afterward.
“She says I betrayed her.”
“What did you say?”
“That I have a fiduciary responsibility to the company.”
“Good.”
“She said you put me up to it.”
“I didn’t.”
“I told her that.”
“Did she believe you?”
“No.”
“That’s not your problem.”
“She’s seven months pregnant.”
“I know.”
“I feel like a monster.”
“Why?”
“Because she’s stressed.”
“Eliminating payment authority while an audit is underway is not cruelty.”
“She says I don’t trust her.”
“Do you?”
Silence.
“No.”
There it was.
Not an accusation.
An admission.
That evening, Chloe called me.
I almost ignored it.
Then I answered.
“Elena.”
“Chloe.”
“Happy?”
“No.”
“Don’t lie.”
“I’m not.”
“You got exactly what you wanted.”
“What do you think I wanted?”
“Mark separated from me at the company.”
“That was his decision.”
“You told him to do it.”
“He asked what I would do if this happened at Sterling.”
“You’ve always thought you were better than me.”
“No.”
She laughed.
“Please.”
“I thought sleeping with my husband while smiling at me during company dinners was cruel.”
Silence.
“That’s different.”
“No. It’s specific.”
She breathed hard.
“You don’t know what your marriage was like from his side.”
“You’re right.”
“He was miserable.”
“Then he should have divorced me.”
“He said you’d use the girls against him.”
I almost laughed from disbelief.
“He told you that?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Last year.”
“Interesting.”
“What?”
“Because last year I was the one asking him to attend counseling.”
Chloe went quiet.
“He said you refused.”
“I scheduled three appointments.”
Silence again.
“He said you controlled the money.”
“I paid household bills because he stopped opening statements.”
“He said your family looked down on him.”
“My mother gave him his first commercial contract.”
Chloe said nothing.
I did not enjoy the silence.
It felt sad.
Eventually she whispered, “He told me the penthouse was his.”
“I know.”
“And the car.”
“I know.”
“He said he had given you enough in the divorce that you could move comfortably.”
“I left with my personal accounts, my Sterling shares and custody of the girls.”
“He said you took half his company.”
“I took zero shares.”
Chloe’s breathing changed.
“Elena…”
“I’m not telling you this to help you leave him.”
“Then why?”
“Because you’re carrying an innocent child.”
She said nothing.
“And because if Mark lied to make you feel justified, you deserve to know which parts of your relationship were built on fiction.”
Her voice became defensive again.
“You expect me to believe you?”
“No.”
“Then what?”
“Read the divorce judgment. It’s public enough for your attorney to obtain.”
She hung up.
Three days later, Mark called.
“Did Chloe call you?”
“Yes.”
“What did you tell her?”
“The truth.”
“All of it?”
“The parts she asked about.”
He closed his eyes.
“She left.”
I stared at him.
“Where?”
“Her sister’s.”
“Is she safe?”
“Yes.”
“The baby?”
“Fine.”
“What happened?”
“She read the judgment.”
I said nothing.
“She asked why I told her you took company shares.”
“What did you say?”
He looked ashamed.
“That I was trying to make the divorce sound expensive.”
“Why?”
“Because…”
He stopped.
“Because if I admitted you walked away without asking for my company, then I couldn’t tell myself you were leaving for money.”
There are apologies that ask to be forgiven.
And there are confessions that simply reveal how long someone has been lying to himself.
This was the second kind.
“Mark.”
“I know.”
“No. Listen.”
He looked at me.
“Do not turn Chloe into the villain just because you finally see your own lies.”
His face hardened.
“She may have stolen from my company.”
“Then let the audit determine that.”
“She helped destroy our marriage.”
“No.”
“Elena—”
“You did.”
His face went still.
“She participated.”
“Yes.”
“But you were married to me.”
Silence.
“You made vows to me.”
Silence.
“You neglected our daughters.”
He looked down.
“You lied.”
His jaw clenched.
“You chose.”
May you like
He whispered, “I know.”
And for the first time, he sounded like he actually did.
