Six months later, our divorce was underway.
The criminal cases were still moving.
There was no dramatic courtroom speech.
No perfect sentencing scene.
Just lawyers.
Evidence.
Continuances.
Financial audits.
Adrian eventually entered a plea on several charges and agreed to cooperate regarding his parents’ role.
Thomas fought everything.
Margaret blamed Thomas.
Thomas blamed Adrian.
Adrian blamed fear.
Everyone had an explanation.
None of them had my trust.
The Mercer family recovered every dollar before the transfer completed.
That part was almost anticlimactic.
What took longer was my body.
The sedatives cleared quickly.
The anxiety did not.
For weeks, I could not drink from a glass someone else poured.
At restaurants, I watched waiters open bottles.
At home, I checked seals twice.
I woke at night convinced Adrian was beside me.
Then remembered he wasn’t.
My father wanted to sell the Mercer Star.
The first time he asked, I said yes.
Immediately.
I hated the vessel.
The corridors.
The cabin.
The dining room.
The place where Margaret carried tea.
Then three months later, I changed my mind.
“Don’t sell it.”
My father studied me.
“Why?”
“I don’t know yet.”
That answer worried him.
It worried me too.
Eventually I returned.
Not alone.
My parents.
Two friends.
The same captain.
Mara, the nurse, came for lunch at port.
No Adrian.
No Thomas.
No Margaret.
The Mercer Star left Bellmere on a bright morning and sailed toward the outer Evermere Isles.
I expected panic.
It came.
Then passed.
We reached the stretch of water where the captain had quietly slowed the engines months earlier.
I stood at the stern.
The ocean looked ordinary.
That irritated me.
I had expected it to look evil.
Trauma does that.
It convinces you geography should remember.
Water doesn’t.
I looked toward the horizon.
My father stood beside me.
“You sure?”
“No.”
“About what?”
“Any of it.”
He smiled sadly.
“That’s probably healthier.”
I laughed.
Then I told him something I had not admitted before.
“I keep wondering if Adrian ever loved me.”
My father took a long time to answer.
“Do you need the answer?”
“I thought I did.”
“And now?”
I looked at the water.
“No.”
That surprised me.
Because whether Adrian loved me did not change what he chose.
People sometimes imagine love as the opposite of harm.
