Chapter 8 - The Cost of Regret
The following morning in Boulder,
Marcus Reynolds woke up to a reality that no amount of scotch could dull.
He hadn't slept.
He had spent the night in his study,
surrounded by old photographs of a time when his life seemed simple.
He found a picture of me from our wedding day.
I was laughing,
my veil caught in the wind,
looking at him with a devotion that he had treated as a disposable commodity.
He remembered the day I told him I was pregnant.
He remembered the panic that had seized him,
the selfish,
ugly voice in his head telling him that his life was over.
He had wanted to travel,
to build his empire,
to be the most sought-after bachelor in the country.
A baby was a chain.
A baby was a mistake.
But looking at the children on the lawn,
he realized that the chain was actually an anchor,
and without it,
he had spent eight years drifting in shallow water.
"Marcus?"
Isabella entered the study,
her eyes red from crying.
She was dressed in a silk robe,
holding a cup of coffee that she offered to him.
"I've been thinking,"
she said,
her voice softer now,
more manipulative.
"If those are your children,
then you have a right to them.
Think about the inheritance,
Marcus.
Think about the Reynolds name."
Marcus looked at her,
disgust rising in his chest.
"You don't care about the children,"
he said flatly.
"You care about the fact that she’s richer than us.
You care that she made me look like a fool."
Isabella stiffened.
"I care about our future!
How can we get married with this hanging over us?
The press will find out.
They'll say you’re a deadbeat!"
"I am a deadbeat,"
Marcus whispered,
the truth finally breaking through his ego.
"I am exactly what she said I am."
He stood up and walked to the window,
looking out at the spot where the helicopter had landed.
The snow had covered the tracks,
erasing any physical proof that they had been there.
But the image was burned into his retinas.
He pulled out his phone and searched for 'Kesha Vance.'
The results were staggering.
""Kesha Vance: The Woman Who Reimagined Cloud Computing.""
""Vance Corp Hits 10 Billion Dollar Valuation.""
""CEO Kesha Vance on Balancing Motherhood and the Tech Industry.""
He clicked on an article from a year ago.
There was a photo of me at a gala,
wearing a sleek black gown,
looking powerful and untouchable.
The article mentioned that I was a single mother of four,
but I had never named the father.
The world thought I was a widow or a woman who had chosen a path of independence.
No one knew the truth.
No one knew that Marcus Reynolds had thrown away a fortune in both love and money.
"I have to see her,"
Marcus said,
grabbing his car keys.
"Marcus,
wait!"
Isabella shouted.
"You can't just leave!
We have a brunch with the donors!"
"Cancel it,"
he said,
not looking back.
He drove to his mother’s room first.
Patricia was sitting by the window,
staring out at the mountains.
"I'm going to Austin,"
he told her.
"Bring them home,
Marcus,"
she pleaded,
her voice trembling.
"Even if she hates us,
bring those children back to this family."
Marcus didn't answer.
He knew 'bringing them home' was an impossibility.
May you like
He wasn't going to Austin to bring them back.
He was going to Austin to see if he still existed in the world I had built.
