Chapter 13
Seraphine requested mediation.
Alaric agreed.
Elowen did not attend.
That was never considered.
Rebecca sat beside Alaric.
Seraphine arrived with counsel and looked thinner than she had months earlier.
She spoke first.
“I never wanted her hurt.”
Alaric said nothing.
“The staircase was an accident.”
“You pushed her.”
“She pulled away.”
“You pushed her.”
Seraphine looked down.
“I lost my temper.”
“Yes.”
“I was trying to help her.”
“No.”
Her eyes sharpened.
“Brightwell helps families.”
“Maybe some.”
“Graydon helps children.”
“Maybe some.”
“You’re making everything sound corrupt.”
Alaric leaned forward.
“I’m talking about what you did.”
She became quiet.
He continued.
“You didn’t need Elowen to get better.”
Seraphine looked at him.
“You needed her to look worse.”
Her face tightened.
“That isn’t fair.”
“You wrote down her reactions after you provoked them.”
“I was trying to show you what I lived with.”
“You forged my signature.”
“I knew you’d eventually agree.”
“You planted the application.”
Silence.
Rebecca did not interrupt.
Seraphine finally said:
“You were impossible whenever Elowen was involved.”
Alaric stared.
“You gave her everything.”
“She was seven.”
“You treated every boundary like cruelty because Mara died.”
There it was.
The personal motive beneath the financial one.
Seraphine had resented living beside a grief she could not outrank.
Every time Elowen mentioned Mara, Seraphine felt like a temporary woman in someone else’s house.
Brightwell gave her a language that converted jealousy into discipline.
Structure.
Boundaries.
Behavior.
Intervention.
Then money made the story profitable.
Alaric said:
“You could have left.”
Seraphine’s eyes filled.
“I loved you.”
“You wanted a version of my life where my daughter took up less room.”
She looked away.
That was as close to agreement as he would get.
Before the meeting ended, she asked:
“Will I ever see her again?”
May you like
Alaric did not answer for Elowen.
“That won’t be my decision alone.”
