Chapter 5 – THE LAST ARGUMENT WITH DANIEL

“You said that to him?”

Victoria’s voice was barely above a whisper.

Marco nodded.

I stayed near the bookshelf, uncertain whether I should leave.

Then Marco looked at me.

“Claire, would you mind closing the door?”

I did.

He sat at Daniel’s desk and stared at the little drawing.

“Daniel wanted out,” he said.

Neither of us interrupted.

“He wasn’t asking permission. That was what made me angry.”

Marco gave a short, humorless laugh.

“He’d always been the one who could walk away from an argument. I’d be ready to tear the house apart, and he’d tell me to eat something before I embarrassed myself.”

Victoria sat across from him.

“He worried about Charlie.”

“He worried about all of us.”

Marco picked up the wooden ruler.

“After our father died, I took over the business. Daniel helped for a while. Then Charlie got older, and Daniel started questioning things.”

He rubbed his thumb along the ruler’s edge.

“He wanted to sell his share and take the boy somewhere quiet. He found that little house in Wisconsin. Said he could teach Charlie to fish badly and learn to cook something besides pasta.”

“Sounds nice,” I said.

Marco looked at me.

“It did.”

“Then why did you object?”

Victoria’s eyes sharpened.

I expected Marco to tell me it wasn’t my concern.

Instead, he answered.

“Because I thought leaving would make him vulnerable. I didn’t trust the people around us. I thought keeping him close meant I could protect him.”

He stared at the drawing.

“Daniel said the only thing Charlie needed protecting from was the life we’d built.”

Victoria lowered her eyes.

Marco continued.

“We fought the morning he died. I told him he couldn’t take Charlie away until we’d settled things properly.”

His voice roughened.

“He told me I didn’t get to decide how his son grew up.”

Marco stopped.

I waited.

“What happened afterward?” I asked.

“He left.”

“And then?”

Marco looked toward the window.

“He called later. I didn’t answer the first time.”

Victoria closed her eyes.

“He called again,” Marco continued. “I answered because I thought he wanted another argument.”

“What did he say?”

Marco swallowed.

“He asked whether I’d come see the house with him that weekend.”

I felt something twist in my chest.

“He wasn’t trying to continue the fight,” Marco said. “He was trying to end it.”

“What did you say?”

Marco looked down.

“I told him I was busy.”

Silence filled the study.

“I said we’d talk when he stopped using Charlie to make a point.”

His fingers tightened around the ruler.

“Those were the last words I said to him.”

Nobody spoke for a while.

Then Victoria reached across the desk.

“Marco, you couldn’t have known.”

“I know.”

“You weren’t responsible for the accident.”

“I know that, too.”

But he didn’t sound as though he believed it.

I thought about Charlie blaming himself for calling his father.

And Marco blaming himself for refusing an invitation.

Both of them had been carrying the same impossible burden.

Each thought one ordinary choice had somehow caused a death.

“Mr. DeLuca,” I said carefully, “Charlie thinks his father died because he needed a ride.”

Marco looked up.

“I know.”

“And you think your brother died while you were still refusing to forgive him.”

His expression tightened.

“Claire—”

“I’m sorry. But those are two different kinds of guilt, and neither one changes what happened.”

Victoria glanced at me.

For once, she didn’t look offended by a maid speaking out of turn.

Marco stared at his hands.

“I should’ve gone to see the house.”

“Maybe,” I said. “But you can still listen to what he wanted for Charlie.”

That seemed to reach him.

He nodded slowly.

Then Victoria spoke.

“That’s why I researched the school.”

Marco turned toward her.

“I understand that Daniel wanted a different environment,” she continued. “A place where Charlie isn’t constantly reminded of everything his father was trying to escape.”

“Then why tell him I don’t want him?”

“I didn’t say that.”

Marco picked up the goodbye letter.

“You helped him write this.”

Victoria looked at it.

Her expression hardened.

“I was trying to help him accept a difficult change.”

“You were teaching him to apologize for it.”

She stood.

“I have spent six months living with a man who’s barely present and a child who won’t speak to me. I know you’re both grieving. I know I’m supposed to be patient.”

Her voice shook.

“But every time I suggest changing something, you look at me as if I’m destroying Daniel’s memory.”

Marco remained silent.

Victoria wiped at one eye angrily.

“I love you. I wanted us to have a life together.”

“We have a life.”

“We have a house full of rooms nobody wants to enter.”

Marco looked toward the desk.

“And you thought sending Charlie away would fix that?”

Victoria didn’t answer.

A few minutes later, Marco opened the folder again.

He wanted to understand exactly what the school had received.

There were tuition figures, proposed dates, medical questionnaires, and an authorization form bearing his name.

Marco examined the signature.

“Victoria.”

She turned.

“You signed this.”

She looked at the page.

“You authorized me to manage household and educational arrangements.”

“Not to impersonate me.”

“I wasn’t impersonating you. I signed on your behalf.”

“Without telling me.”

She looked exhausted.

“I believed it was what you wanted.”

Marco set the form down.

“No more decisions about Charlie without Charlie.”

Victoria’s expression changed.

“Marco, there’s something else.”

He waited.

She touched the folder.

“That’s not the signature you need to worry about.”

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