Victor’s Private Apology
Chapter 15 - Victor’s Private Apology
After the gala ended, Victor took Ethan to a private terrace overlooking the wet city.
The rain had stopped. Chicago glittered below, streets shining under gold and blue light. Ethan stood near the glass railing with the black envelope tucked safely inside his jacket. His body felt hollow from adrenaline and grief.
Victor stood beside him, hands folded over the head of his cane though he did not need one. Maybe it was habit. Maybe rich men liked objects that made stillness look intentional.
“I owe you an apology beyond tonight,” Victor said.
Ethan kept looking at the city. “You already apologized.”
“Publicly.”
“That counts for more with people like you.”
Victor absorbed the hit.
“Yes,” he said. “It does. That is part of the problem.”
Ethan glanced at him.
Victor’s voice lowered. “After your father saved me, I promised him I would help his family. I did some things. Paid some bills. Created an account. Then I let lawyers and assistants turn gratitude into administration. When your father refused publicity, the foundation found it convenient.”
“He didn’t refuse being remembered,” Ethan said. “He refused being used.”
Victor closed his eyes.
The distinction hurt because it was true.
“What do you want from me?” Victor asked.
Ethan laughed softly. “That’s a dangerous question.”
“I mean it.”
Ethan thought of his mother’s rent, his father’s tools in storage, years of resentment, the shove, the applause, the way donors looked at him differently once Victor named him.
“I want the truth permanent,” he said.
Victor nodded. “Done.”
“And not just my father. Every person your foundation erased because their story wasn’t shiny.”
Victor looked at him with something like respect.
“That,” he said, “will take longer.”
Ethan finally faced him.
“Then start tonight.”
Victor held out his hand.
Ethan took it.
May you like
Not as rescue.
As contract.
