Chapter 14: Separation
1584words
Two weeks had passed since my meeting with Edward Hamilton—two weeks of crash courses in corporate finance, family history, and the responsibilities that came with unexpected wealth. My grandfather's health had deteriorated rapidly after our meeting, as if finally sharing his secrets had removed his last reason to fight.
"And he's leaving everything to me?" I still couldn't quite believe it.
"Yes, Ms. Hamilton. Or Winters, if you prefer to maintain that name."
I considered the question. "Hamilton," I decided. "It's time to reclaim that part of my history."
After the meeting, I visited my father at the rehabilitation center where he was recovering from his latest treatment. The experimental therapy Alexander had paid for—one of the few parts of our contract he'd fulfilled before everything fell apart—was working. His color had improved, his strength returning gradually.
"You look more like her every day," he said as I entered his room, the same observation Edward had made when we first met.
"Like Aunt Catherine?" I asked, taking the chair beside his bed.
He nodded, sadness and pride mingling in his expression. "He told you everything, then."
"Not everything," I replied. "He didn't tell me why you kept it from me all these years."
My father sighed, reaching for my hand. "At first, it was anger. I wanted nothing to do with the Hamilton name or money. Later, it was protection. The business world Edward operated in was cutthroat, dangerous. I wanted a simpler life for you and Sophie."
"And when you got sick? When we were drowning in medical bills?"
"Pride," he admitted. "Foolish, stubborn pride. I should have reached out to him then."
I squeezed his hand, understanding now the complexity of family bonds—how love and resentment could exist simultaneously, how pride could both sustain and destroy.
"I've decided to accept the inheritance," I told him. "But I want you involved. This is your birthright too."
Tears filled his eyes. "I'm proud of you, Elena. Whatever you decide to do with the Hamilton legacy, I know you'll honor the best parts of it."
---
Across town, in the penthouse I'd once shared with Alexander, another conversation about legacy was taking place.
"You're a fool," Vivian Blackwood declared, watching her grandson stare out at the city skyline. "That girl was the best thing that ever happened to you."
Alexander didn't turn from the window. "She made her choice."
"After you made yours," Vivian countered sharply. "Choosing suspicion over trust. Just like your grandfather would have done."
That got his attention. He turned, frowning. "What do you mean?"
Vivian settled more comfortably in her chair, her shrewd eyes assessing him. "Did you never wonder why I insisted you marry? Why the terms of my trust were so specific?"
"To ensure the company remained under family control," Alexander replied, the answer he'd always assumed was true.
"Partly," she acknowledged. "But mostly because I watched your grandfather's obsession with control destroy everything good in his life. I watched it happening to you too—brilliant but isolated, powerful but alone."
"And you thought a contract marriage would solve that?" Alexander's tone was skeptical.
"I thought the right woman might remind you there's more to life than balance sheets and board meetings." Vivian's expression softened slightly. "She made you human again, Alexander. That wasn't in your contract."
The simple observation struck deeper than any criticism could have. Because it was true—Elena had awakened parts of him he'd thought long dead, had challenged him, supported him, seen through his carefully constructed facade to the wounded boy beneath.
And he had repaid her with suspicion when she needed his trust most.
"It's too late," he said, turning back to the window. "She's gone."
"Only if you let her be," Vivian replied. "The question is whether your pride is worth more than your happiness."
After his grandmother left, Alexander remained at the window, her words echoing in his mind. On his desk lay the latest report from his investigation into Richard's activities—evidence suggesting his uncle's involvement not only in the current takeover attempt but potentially in the deaths of Alexander's parents.
The same investigation had uncovered the planned merger between Hamilton and Blackwood all those years ago—the alliance that would have united the companies through the next generation. Through Elena, though neither of them had known it when they entered their arrangement.
The irony wasn't lost on him. They had unknowingly attempted to fulfill the very merger their parents had planned, through a cold contract rather than genuine connection.
And he had ruined it with his inability to trust.
His phone rang—Ms. Chen with news he'd been waiting for. "Sir, we've confirmed Richard's connection to the shell companies used to acquire Blackwood shares. And there's more—financial records linking him to payments made to a mechanic the night your parents died."
The final piece of the puzzle clicked into place. "Prepare the evidence for the authorities. And Ms. Chen? Contact Elena Hamilton's office. Tell her I need to meet regarding matters affecting both our families."
It wasn't much—a professional pretext to see her again—but it was a start.
---
The neutral meeting location—a private room at the Harvard Club—felt appropriate for the business discussion we'd agreed to. I arrived early, steeling myself for the first sight of Alexander since our confrontation outside the Hamilton estate.
When he entered, the familiar impact of his presence hit me with unexpected force—the confident stride, the impeccable suit, the storm-gray eyes that found mine immediately. But there were changes too—a new tension around his mouth, shadows beneath his eyes suggesting sleepless nights.
"Elena," he greeted, his voice carefully neutral. "Thank you for agreeing to meet."
"Your message said it concerned both our families," I replied, equally formal. "I assume this is about Richard."
Alexander nodded, taking the seat across from me. "My investigation has uncovered definitive evidence linking him to the deaths of both our parents. The authorities have been notified, but I wanted you to know first."
"I appreciate that." I kept my tone professional despite the emotions churning beneath the surface—grief for the parents I'd never known, anger at the man who had stolen them, and beneath it all, the persistent ache of Alexander's betrayal.
"There's more," he continued. "The original merger plans between Hamilton and Blackwood—I've reviewed them. They were visionary. Ahead of their time."
"And you think we should revisit them," I guessed, seeing where this was heading.
"It makes business sense," Alexander confirmed. "Hamilton's holdings complement Blackwood's current portfolio. Together, we could create something extraordinary."
"A merger of convenience," I observed. "History repeating itself."
Something flickered in his eyes—frustration, perhaps, or regret. "Not just convenience. Strategic alignment. Shared vision."
"And what about trust, Alexander? Does that factor into your business calculations?"
He flinched slightly at the direct hit. "I deserve that," he acknowledged. "But Elena, this is bigger than us. It's about honoring what our parents tried to create."
I studied him, noting the careful distance he maintained—speaking of business when what lay between us was far more personal. But perhaps that was all he knew how to do, all he allowed himself to be.
"I'll consider it," I said finally. "Have your team send over the proposal. My advisors and I will review it."
Relief crossed his features briefly. "Thank you."
As we concluded our meeting with polite handshakes and formal goodbyes, I wondered if this was to be our future—professional courtesy masking the wreckage of what might have been something real.
Back at my new office in what was now Hamilton Holdings, I found myself staring at the proposal Alexander's team had already sent over. The business case was impeccable—the combined companies would indeed be stronger together, able to weather market fluctuations and expand into new territories.
But as I reviewed the documents, I couldn't help noticing the personal touches—sections highlighted in exactly the way I preferred, appendices organized using the system I'd developed during our work together, even my favorite font used throughout.
Small details that revealed how well Alexander had come to know me during our brief time together. Details that suggested, perhaps, he was trying to say something he couldn't put into words.
As I prepared for bed that night in my new apartment—spacious and elegant but somehow lacking the life of Alexander's penthouse—my phone chimed with a text message.
"The business case is sound," Alexander had written. "But that's not why I want this merger."
I stared at the message, my heart beating faster despite my determination to remain detached. Before I could decide whether to respond, another message appeared:
"I miss you."
Two simple words that cracked the careful shell I'd built around my heart since walking away. Two words that acknowledged what our meeting today had not—that beneath the business proposal lay something far more personal.
My fingers hovered over the keyboard, torn between self-protection and the truth. Finally, I typed:
"I miss you too. But missing someone isn't enough."
His response came quickly: "No, it isn't. Trust is essential. I'm learning that too late."
The raw honesty in his message, so unlike the controlled businessman I'd first met, made my throat tighten with emotion. We were both changing, growing, learning painful lessons about what mattered most.
The question was whether those lessons had come too late for us.
