Chapter 6 - What Josephine Sacrificed
I took Felicity's final warning seriously for one reason.
Not because I trusted her.
Because every weapon she used contained a fragment of truth.
I drove back to Josephine.
The twins were asleep.
She sat on the porch beneath a yellow light.
I handed her the letter Felicity had kept.
Josephine recognized it instantly.
Her eyes filled.
“Where did you get this?”
“Felicity.”
She looked away.
“I thought she'd destroyed it.”
“She kept it.”
“Of course she did.”
I sat beside her.
For a while, we listened to crickets.
Then I asked the question.
“Why didn't you challenge the divorce?”
Josephine went still.
“Who told you to ask?”
“Felicity.”
She laughed softly.
“She can't resist making sure every wound stays open.”
“Is there something I don't know?”
Josephine looked at me.
“Yes.”
I waited.
After our separation, Josephine had hired an attorney.
She planned to fight the allegations.
Then an envelope arrived.
Inside were documents suggesting my company had committed tax fraud.
Fake documents.
But convincing ones.
Along with them came photographs of me meeting with business partners.
A note said that if Josephine challenged the divorce publicly, the documents would be sent to federal investigators and the media.
“She threatened you with me.”
Josephine nodded.
“I didn't know the records were fake.”
“You could have told me.”
“You wouldn't speak to me.”
That silenced me.
“She said if I fought back, she'd destroy your company and your employees would lose their jobs.”
“So you signed.”
“Yes.”
“For me.”
She looked away.
“For hundreds of people who depended on you.”
I stared at her.
The woman I'd accused of stealing from me had surrendered hundreds of thousands of dollars to protect my company.
The woman I'd accused of betrayal had protected my reputation.
Even when I wouldn't answer her calls.
“You should have hated me.”
She smiled sadly.
“Maybe.”
“Why didn't you?”
“Because hate would have tied me to you just as tightly as love did.”
I absorbed that.
“Do you still love me?”
The question escaped before I could stop it.
Josephine closed her eyes.
“Don't.”
“I'm sorry.”
“No, Bennett.”
She turned toward me.
“You don't get to come back because the truth made you lonely.”
“I know.”
“You don't get to hold the twins three times and suddenly call us a family.”
“I know.”
“You broke something.”
Her voice trembled.
“Maybe Felicity handed you the hammer. But you swung it.”
I nodded.
“I know.”
Tears filled her eyes.
“And that's what hurts.”
I didn't defend myself.
There was no defense.
“I don't expect you to take me back.”
“Then what do you want?”
“To be their father.”
She looked toward the window where our sons slept.
“And if that's all I ever get from you, I'll accept it.”
Josephine studied my face.
“You mean that?”
“Yes.”
I did.
For the next several months, I proved it.
Not with grand gestures.
With ordinary things.
I attended pediatric appointments.
I learned how to install car seats correctly.
I stayed awake with Noah during an ear infection.
I changed diapers.
I washed bottles.
I learned Elias liked being bounced twice before sleep, not three times.
I learned Josephine drank coffee only after both boys had eaten.
I stopped asking for forgiveness.
I started becoming useful.
Meanwhile, the legal case against Felicity and Cameron expanded.
Rebecca testified.
The hotel employee testified.
Bank records showed fraud.
Security footage showed evidence planting.
Hospital administrators confirmed illegal access to Josephine's file.
The most damaging evidence came from Felicity herself.
Recordings.
Messages.
Payments.
She had documented everything because she trusted nobody.
Eventually, prosecutors charged her with fraud, conspiracy, witness tampering, identity theft, financial crimes, and obstruction.
The threats against Josephine were traced back to Colton Reese.
He was arrested in Missouri.
He accepted a plea agreement and testified that Felicity hired him to frighten Josephine into leaving Springfield.
She had told him not to physically harm her.
But she'd told him to make Josephine believe worse could happen.
Felicity's power collapsed quickly after that.
Her father publicly separated himself from both children.
Cameron negotiated his own agreement.
By spring, the case was nearly finished.
But my life had already changed more dramatically than any courtroom verdict could.
Josephine moved out of the shelter.
Not into my house.
Into her own.
I helped financially only through legal arrangements she controlled.
She wanted independence.
I respected it.
The twins turned one.
Then fourteen months.
Then sixteen.
I was there.
Their first steps toward me nearly destroyed me.
One Saturday, Elias stumbled across Josephine's living room and fell into my arms.
I laughed so loudly he laughed too.
Josephine stood in the doorway watching.
Something in her expression felt different.
Not guarded.
Warm.
I tried not to hope.
That evening after the boys fell asleep, we sat outside.
She handed me coffee.
“You've changed.”
I looked at her.
“I'm trying.”
“No.”
She smiled faintly.
“You have.”
Those three words meant more than any forgiveness speech could have.
“I miss you,” I admitted.
She looked down.
“I know.”
“I don't want to pressure you.”
“You haven't.”
“I still miss you.”
“I know that too.”
Silence.
Then she said, “I miss who we were.”
My chest tightened.
“So do I.”
“But we can't be those people again.”
“No.”
She looked at me.
“Maybe that's not bad.”
I didn't understand.
She continued.
“Those people didn't know what they were capable of.”
“Hurting each other?”
“Surviving.”
I stared at her.
For the first time, hope didn't feel impossible.
Then her phone rang.
She answered.
Her expression changed.
“What?”
I stood.
“What happened?”
She put the call on speaker.
It was Winston.
“Josephine, Bennett, Felicity's out.”
My heart stopped.
“What do you mean out?”
“Released pending trial due to a procedural issue on one portion of the case.”
“For how long?”
“Could be days.”
Josephine went pale.
Then Winston added, “And no one currently knows where she is.”
I looked toward the twins' bedroom.
After months of rebuilding, Felicity was free.
Maybe temporarily.
But long enough to do damage.
Josephine whispered, “She'll come here.”
I shook my head.
“No.”
“You don't know her.”
“I know enough.”
I looked at Josephine.
“This time, you're not facing her alone.”
Outside, headlights moved slowly past the house.
Then stopped.
Josephine grabbed my arm.
May you like
A car door opened.
And someone began walking toward us.
