Chapter 16 - The Company Without Arthur
Everyone expected Julian to take control.
Business television practically announced it for him.
THE PRODIGAL HEIR RETURNS
JULIAN VANCE POISED TO REBUILD FAMILY EMPIRE
CAN THE SON SAVE THE VANCE NAME?
He refused.
The board offered him CEO.
He refused.
They offered executive chairman.
He refused.
He sold part of his position into the restructuring and used a significant portion to fund restitution for employees whose retirement accounts had suffered from the fraud.
When a reporter asked why, Julian answered:
“Because not every inheritance is worth keeping.”
Arthur heard about it in prison.
He reportedly threw a chair.
I laughed when Naomi told me.
Some petty pleasures remained.
The strangest conversation happened six months after Ava came home.
Julian and I sat across from each other in a mediator’s office discussing parenting.
The protective order had expired.
Our divorce was nearly complete.
Ava slept in a bassinet between us.
The mediator asked about holidays.
I said Thanksgiving with me.
Julian said fine.
Christmas morning?
I hesitated.
“Together.”
Julian looked up.
“For Ava.”
“Yes.”
“Okay.”
Birthday?
“Together.”
He nodded.
Then the mediator asked:
“Romantic partners.”
The air changed.
I hated that.
Julian said quietly:
“Clara decides when someone she dates meets Ava. I’d like notice, but I understand I don’t control it.”
I stared.
The old Julian would have made demands.
“And you?” I asked.
“I’m not dating.”
“That wasn’t the question.”
“If I do, same rule.”
I nodded.
Then he added:
“I don’t plan to introduce anyone quickly.”
Something sharp moved through me.
Jealousy.
I almost laughed at myself.
Human emotions were deeply inconvenient.
The divorce became final eleven months after the raid.
We stood outside the courthouse.
No cameras this time.
Nobody cared anymore.
Arthur was convicted.
The company was restructuring.
The scandal cycle had found newer prey.
Julian looked at the document in his hand.
“That’s it.”
“That’s it.”
He swallowed.
“I’m sorry.”
“I know.”
“I wish—”
He stopped.
“What?”
He shook his head.
“No. Wishes are cheap.”
That sounded like something therapy had taught him.
I almost smiled.
He looked at me.
“I’m going to be a good father.”
“I believe you.”
Those three words hit him harder than anything else.
His eyes filled.
“Thank you.”
“I didn’t say husband.”
He laughed through tears.
“I know.”
Then he left.
No hug.
No kiss.
No last-minute promise.
May you like
Our marriage ended cleanly.
And that was the kindest thing it had done in years.
