I laughed once, quietly, because something inside me finally broke cleanly enough to stop hurting.
I didn’t go back inside the hotel.
Instead, I drove home through wet streets and blurred lights, past neighborhoods I’d helped redevelop on paper but never truly belonged to, and by the time I pulled into my driveway, a calm resolve had settled in that felt heavier than anger and far more permanent.
The next morning, I resigned.
My father didn’t call.
Victor sent a short message that said,
“Hope you don’t take this personally.”
Leon didn’t respond at all.
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