Chapter 7 - CORINNE’S OFFER
Corinne requested mediation.
Victor almost rejected it.
Paige said:
“Listen.”
“Why?”
“Because people reveal motive when they think they can still bargain.”
He attended.
Neutral office.
Attorneys.
No children.
Corinne wore navy.
No jewelry except small earrings.
She looked tired.
Victor felt an uncomfortable ache.
He had loved her.
Maybe still did, somewhere useless.
Corinne began:
“I never believed Millie wasn’t biologically yours.”
Victor stared.
“Then your birthday speech was worse.”
She looked down.
“Yes.”
“Why call her a mistake?”
“I was angry.”
“That is not an explanation.”
Corinne inhaled.
“My mother spent twenty years building Voss Management.”
“On contracts she hid ownership in.”
“Yes.”
“She believed the Bellacostas used her.”
“Did they?”
“Sometimes.”
Victor accepted that possibility.
Families could exploit people and still be exploited by them.
Corinne continued.
“When Millie was born, the descendant trust terminated most of our management rights.”
“Legally.”
“Yes.”
“My mother believed she was owed compensation.”
“She filed.”
“Denied.”
“Yes.”
“You inherited the claim.”
“Yes.”
“How much?”
“About nine million with interest.”
“And you discovered Millie’s alias.”
“Yes.”
“You thought it gave you leverage.”
“Yes.”
Good.
Finally plain.
“Why date me?”
Corinne’s eyes filled.
“At first?”
Victor waited.
“I wanted access.”
There it was.
No attempt to soften.
“How early?”
“I arranged to meet you.”
“I know.”
Her eyes widened slightly.
Of course he knew now.
“I thought if I got close, I could negotiate the Voss claim.”
“But?”
She looked at him.
“I fell in love with you.”
Victor believed her.
That made nothing easier.
“And Millie?”
Corinne looked away.
“She never trusted me.”
“She was seven when you met.”
“She compared everything to Amelia.”
“Because Amelia was her mother.”
“I know.”
“Now.”
“Yes.”
Corinne’s voice cracked.
“I felt like I was joining a marriage that had not ended emotionally.”
Victor sat back.
“Amelia died.”
“That doesn’t mean she left the house.”
“She shouldn’t have to.”
There.
The conflict.
Corinne wanted a future that required the dead wife to disappear.
Millie would never allow that.
Neither would Victor, though he had failed to say it clearly enough.
Corinne continued.
“Then I found the original birth record.”
“And?”
“For one stupid moment, I thought maybe the entire perfect mother-daughter story was built on a lie.”
Victor stared.
“So you hoped Millie wasn’t Amelia’s?”
Corinne cried.
“I don’t know what I hoped.”
“But you had proof before the birthday.”
“Yes.”
“The DNA.”
“Yes.”
“Hospital records.”
“Yes.”
“You knew the alias was protection.”
“Yes.”
“Yet you still used it.”
“Yes.”
Silence.
“Why slap her?”
Corinne covered her face briefly.
“She found my file.”
Victor’s expression changed.
“What file?”
“The birth documents.”
Millie had gone into Corinne’s sitting room searching for the mommy box.
She saw a folder with her name.
Asked questions.
Corinne panicked.
Millie said:
“You’re trying to steal Mommy.”
Corinne grabbed the file.
Millie grabbed the present box.
Argument escalated.
Then the slap.
No strategic extraction.
No planned DNA assault.
A cruel loss of control.
The tooth fell because it was already loose.
Corinne saw it and immediately thought:
Fresh DNA.
That was the horrifying part.
Even after hurting a child—
her mind went back to the claim.
She admitted it.
Victor felt cold.
“You looked at her tooth and saw evidence.”
“Yes.”
“And I looked at it and saw my daughter.”
Corinne closed her eyes.
That sentence ended something.
Then she made her offer.
Drop civil claims against me.
I waive the Voss compensation claim.
Victor almost laughed.
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because those matters do not belong to me alone.”
Millie’s privacy.
Trust.
Corporate board.
Potential fiduciary issues.
They required independent resolution.
Corinne could not barter a child’s harm against an adult financial claim.
“Then what do you want?”
Victor answered:
“Nothing from you.”
She looked shattered.
“I want the correct processes to finish.”
No revenge.
No reconciliation.
No deal born of emotion.
Corinne whispered:
“Will you ever forgive me?”
Victor looked at her.
“I don’t know.”
Honest.
Then he stood.
May you like
“But forgiveness wouldn’t make us marry.”
That part he knew.
