Chapter 9 - The Reflection
Six months later, I was standing in my new office on the top floor of the downtown tower.
The glass walls gave me a panoramic view of the mountain skyline. My desk was made of rich dark walnut, holding framed photos of Emma playing on the beach and a small, glass mermaid shell that she had given me on her birthday.
There was a knock on my door. My executive assistant, Sarah—whom I had hired away from the trampoline park after recognizing her sharp attention to detail—stepped inside.
“Mrs. Vance,” Sarah said, holding a tablet. “Your 2:00 PM portfolio review is ready in the main conference room. Also, Mr. Logan Vance is downstairs at the security desk.”
I looked up from my documents. “Logan? Does he have an appointment?”
“No,” Sarah replied gently. “He said he just wanted to drop off Emma’s weekend overnight bag in person and ask if you had five minutes.”
I looked at the mountain view for a moment, letting the silence settle. Six months ago, hearing his name would have brought a surge of anxiety or anger. Now, it felt like reading a page from an old book I had long since finished.
“Tell security to send him up,” I said calm.
Two minutes later, Logan walked into my office.
He was dressed in a simple off-the-rack grey suit. He looked older, quieter, his former swagger entirely replaced by a subdued, working-class humility. He was currently working as a junior analyst at a small, secondary brokerage firm across town—a job Arthur had quietly helped him secure out of pity.
Logan stood near the doorway, looking around my massive office, his eyes lingering on the brass plaque on my desk that read: CAMILLE VANCE — CHIEF OPERATING OFFICER.
“Nice office,” Logan said softly, his voice devoid of any sarcasm.
“Thank you, Logan,” I said, rising from my chair. “You brought Emma’s bag?”
“Yeah,” he said, setting a pink backpack near the door. “She forgot her favorite stuffed turtle when I dropped her off at school this morning. I wanted to make sure she had it for bedtime.”
“That was thoughtful of you. Thank you.”
Logan nodded, shifting his feet. He looked at me for a long moment, as if trying to find the woman he used to be married to, but finding an entirely new person instead.
“You’re doing a great job with the firm, Camille,” he said quietly. “Arthur told me the Q2 earnings were up 15% under your restructuring plan.”
“We made some necessary changes,” I replied politely.
Logan swallowed hard, touching the door handle. “I... I just wanted to say... I’m sorry. For everything. For the cake. For Sienna. For thinking you were someone you weren't.”
I looked at him, feeling the absolute peace of closure settle into my heart.
“Thank you for saying that, Logan,” I said sincerely. “I forgive you. But more importantly, I thank you.”
He frowned slightly, confused. “Thank you? For what?”
“For showing me who you were,” I said, giving him a gentle, professional smile. “Because if you hadn't, I never would have discovered who I was.”
May you like
Logan stared at me for a second, then gave a small, defeated nod. “Goodbye, Camille.”
“Goodbye, Logan.”
