Chapter 10 - GWEN TOLD SABRINA WHAT ETHAN SAID THE NIGHT BEFORE THE STORM
Three years after sentencing, Gwen called Sabrina at 2:11 in the morning.
Sabrina answered because Gwen never called that late.
“What happened?”
“I remembered something.”
Sabrina sat up.
Adrian slept beside her.
Not penthouse.
Her apartment.
She got out of bed.
“What?”
“The night before.”
“The storm?”
“Yes.”
Sabrina’s body tightened.
Gwen cried.
“I don’t know why I never told police.”
“Did you remember then?”
“I don’t know.”
Good.
No manufactured certainty.
“Tell me.”
Gwen breathed.
“Ethan came to my apartment.”
“When?”
“Thursday.”
Storm Friday.
“He was drinking.”
“Ethan rarely drank heavily.”
“I know.”
“What did he say?”
Gwen hesitated.
“He asked if I thought Mom loved him more than me.”
Sabrina frowned.
“What?”
“It was weird.”
“What did you say?”
“I said probably.”
Gwen laughed bitterly.
“He liked that.”
“Then?”
“He said people only love whoever they think can protect them.”
Sabrina closed her eyes.
That sounded like him.
“Did he mention me?”
“Yes.”
“What?”
“He said…”
Gwen cried harder.
“‘Sabrina doesn’t need anyone.’”
Silence.
Then:
“‘That’s why she’s easy to hate.’”
Sabrina sat.
The sentence hurt.
Not because it was true.
Because it explained so much.
Strength mistaken for lack of need.
Success used as permission to neglect.
“You okay?”
Gwen asked.
“No.”
“Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize for telling me.”
Gwen continued.
“He also said, ‘By Monday, everyone will finally need me.’”
There.
Motive.
Not new legally.
Emotionally.
He wanted crisis.
Board panic.
Family panic.
Clients panic.
Need.
The thing Sabrina’s competence denied him.
She looked toward bedroom.
Adrian had awakened.
He stood in doorway.
Did not interrupt.
Gwen continued:
“I thought he meant business.”
“Maybe he did.”
“I should have known.”
“No.”
Sabrina stopped.
Then corrected.
“You should have asked.”
“Yes.”
“But you are not responsible for predicting murder from a weird drunk speech.”
Gwen cried.
“I watched the next night.”
“That part is yours.”
“Yes.”
Truth without unnecessary guilt.
Gwen went quiet.
Then:
“Do you ever think I deserve to lose everything?”
Sabrina stared into dark room.
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because consequences are supposed to relate to what you did.”
“You testified.”
“You lost Ethan.”
“You lost Mom’s trust for a while.”
“You rebuilt your career from entry level.”
“I don’t need the universe to keep hurting you so I feel balanced.”
Gwen cried.
“Are we family?”
Hard.
Sabrina thought.
“Yes.”
Gwen inhaled sharply.
“Does that mean you forgive me?”
“No.”
Gwen laughed through tears.
“Okay.”
“Those are separate.”
“Okay.”
After the call, Sabrina stood at the kitchen counter.
Adrian entered.
“Tea?”
“Yes.”
He made it.
No questions until she spoke.
“Ethan said I was easy to hate because I didn’t need anyone.”
Adrian’s face changed.
“That’s ridiculous.”
Sabrina looked at him.
“Is it?”
“Yes.”
“I was bad at needing people.”
“That is different.”
She stared.
Adrian continued:
“You built a business by being the person who solved everything.”
“You probably became addicted to competence.”
She almost smiled.
“That sounds insulting.”
“It’s affectionate.”
“Dangerous.”
“Very.”
He handed her tea.
Then:
“You needing no one was never true.”
“No.”
“You asking for help was difficult.”
“Yes.”
“Still is.”
“Yes.”
“So?”
Sabrina looked toward him.
“Maybe Ethan saw the performance and believed it.”
Adrian thought.
“Maybe.”
“Does that excuse him?”
“No.”
“Does it explain why I missed things?”
“Some.”
She nodded.
Then:
“I thought because I was the powerful one financially, I couldn’t be controlled.”
There.
Adrian sat.
“Money is one kind of power.”
“Yes.”
“Marriage has others.”
“Trust.”
“Access.”
“Information.”
“Reputation.”
“Isolation.”
Sabrina’s throat tightened.
Ethan had used all.
He knew her medical schedule.
Staff.
Devices.
Building.
Friends.
Her confidence in him.
Then Adrian said:
“You know what I feared when you called?”
“What?”
“That you would apologize for needing rescue.”
She stared.
“Did I?”
“No.”
“Good.”
“You ordered me around within six minutes.”
“That sounds right.”
He smiled.
Then became serious.
“Do you need me?”
Sabrina’s body tightened at the word.
Adrian saw.
“Bad question.”
“No.”
She breathed.
“Just complicated.”
“Then don’t answer.”
Sabrina looked at him.
Years.
Ethan measured himself against whether she needed him.
Adrian was willing not to know.
That mattered.
“I choose you.”
Adrian went still.
Sabrina continued:
“That feels healthier.”
His eyes filled.
“Yes.”
He did not propose.
Thank God.
Not that night.
Instead he touched her hand.
Asked with his eyes.
She let him.
Six months later, he did propose.
At home.
No public restaurant.
No family.
He held a ring.
Then said:
“You can say no.”
Sabrina stared.
“What a terrible proposal.”
He laughed.
“I had a speech.”
“What happened?”
“I panicked.”
“Good.”
“Will you marry me?”
Sabrina looked at him.
Not rescuer.
Not billionaire.
Not Ethan’s opposite.
A man.
Imperfect.
Who asked.
She smiled.
“Yes.”
Then:
“But I keep Beaumont.”
Adrian looked offended.
“I wasn’t planning a corporate merger.”
“Good.”
They laughed.
The wedding would wait.
No rush.
May you like
Sabrina had spent enough years allowing men to confuse access with ownership.
Love could survive a calendar.
