Chapter 19
Craig stared at the office phone screen as the incoming call dropped into voicemail, the unfamiliar local number blinking once before disappearing from the display. He set the device back down on the wooden desk with deliberate calm, his expression completely unreadable. Sloan watched him closely, her hand resting reassuringly on his shoulder. "Was it her?" she asked softly, her voice filled with gentle understanding. Craig nodded once, taking a slow sip of his herbal tea before answering. "Yeah. It was from the landline at the house," he said quietly, his tone devoid of anger, triumph, or malice—only a profound, settling peace. He looked out the window at the bright winter sky, watching the clouds drift past the distant horizon. "Do you feel like calling back?" Sloan asked, not pushing him, simply offering an open door for whatever choice he needed to make for his own closure. Craig shook his head slowly, setting his mug down on the desk with a soft clink. "There's nothing left to say, Sloan. For four years, I offered my time, my savings, my energy, and my heart, and was treated like an invisible background fixture whose only purpose was to fund an illusion of independence," Craig said, his voice steady and resolute. "She made her distribution at dinner—four hundred thousand and a house for Garrett, and blessings and prayers for me. I simply accepted her terms and acted accordingly." Sloan smiled softly, leaning in to rest her head against his shoulder. "Then let her keep her blessings and prayers, Craig. We have our own life to build," she murmured. Craig wrapped his arm around her, pulling her close as the digital screen on his desk remained completely dark and silent, signaling that the past had finally been laid to rest.
