Chapter 13
Melisande requested mediation eight months after the staircase.
Leander agreed.
The children did not attend.
She entered Grant’s conference room looking thinner and less polished.
For once, no carefully arranged elegance could control the tone.
“I never wanted Ophelia to fall.”
Leander looked at her.
“You pushed her.”
“She pulled away from me.”
“You pushed her.”
“I lost my temper.”
“Yes.”
Melisande looked toward Grant.
Then back.
“I wanted structure.”
“No.”
“You were letting those children run the house.”
“They lived there.”
“You know what I mean.”
“I do now.”
Her eyes hardened.
“Everything was Caroline.”
“Their mother.”
“The house. The trust. The rooms. The decisions.”
“Yes.”
“And where was I supposed to exist?”
Leander answered:
“Beside it.”
Melisande laughed bitterly.
“Exactly.”
“You wanted it erased.”
“I wanted a marriage that belonged to us.”
“Then you should’ve told me the house was a deal breaker.”
“You always said no.”
“To selling?”
“To everything.”
“That’s not true.”
“Anything that upset them.”
Leander leaned forward.
“They were eight and ten.”
“They were becoming the reason our entire future stayed frozen.”
“No.”
His voice remained calm.
“They were the reason your preferred future required negotiation.”
Melisande looked away.
That was closer to the truth.
She had not been powerless.
She had been unwilling to share power with two children and a dead woman’s trust.
Finally she asked:
“Do you think I’m a monster?”
Leander considered it.
“No.”
She looked surprised.
“I think you decided wanting something badly enough made manipulation feel practical.”
Her eyes filled.
“And then?”
“Then you stopped noticing the difference between moving obstacles and hurting children.”
Melisande did not answer.
Before leaving, she asked one question.
“Will they ever speak to me?”
May you like
Leander did not answer for them.
“That won’t be mine to promise.”
