My Swiss Knife Her Scar His Wedding Day Chapter 08
“Every time Mr. Bennett went out of town, you brought a different man home.”
Grant’s head snapped up.
He saw the woman in the video. The men next to her.
He gagged. Covered his mouth with his hand.
I was sitting closest. Instinct made me reach to pat his back.
But I stopped halfway.
Instead, I quietly pulled a pack of tissues from my pocket and set it on the table next to him.
When he looked up again, his face was wet with tears. Seeing the tissues, he froze. Then he shut his
eyes in pain.
I’d always been like this.
When we were together, he’d mention wanting a real New York bagel, and I’d run halfway across Paris to get him one. When he got tired from shopping, I’d sit with him in some café all afternoon and listen to him go
on about art history.
All these years, I hadn’t changed.
I just wasn’t his anymore.
“Paige,” he choked out, “I’m sorry…”
I looked at the man sobbing in front of me. He gripped the tissue pack till his knuckles went white, like it
was his last hope.
I just sighed.
Softly. Carefully. I took one step back.
“Don’t. It’s been so long.”
His head shot up. His lips trembled. “No… no, Paige, please… forgive me…”
Derek stepped in front of me. Gentle. Firm.
“Mr. Bennett, you’re too upset. Calm down. Some things are in the past. Asking for forgiveness… that’s a
heavy word.”
I stood behind Derek, looking at his back. My heart was still.
Grant stood frozen.
Then his head dropped. His shoulders caved.
In that moment, his tall frame seemed to shrink. The life drained out of him. Just an empty shell,
watching us walk away side by side.
The next time I saw him was on TV.
He was testifying against Ariana and her mother for conspiracy to murder and inheritance fraud.
He looked ten years older. Same handsome face, but his eyes were hollow.
In the end, Ariana and her mother were convicted. Life without parole. No early release.
And I became my father’s only heir.
He was frail. I put him in Golden Oaks Nursing Home with full-time care. He passed away not long after.
The day I went to sign the probate papers, the sun was bright.
Derek and I walked with our two kids, happy and easy.
We passed a store with a “For Lease” sign. I stopped to look.
“Nice spot. Good space.”
Derek followed my gaze. “Thinking of opening another shop?”
“Yeah, my current place is too small. Some jobs I can’t take. This one could be more professional. Add
some equipment. Hire two more people.”
“I’ll help you with the lease.”
Then we heard people nearby talking.
“There was a crash up the street.”
“What happened?”
“A guy in a yellow sports car. Brakes failed. Hit the barrier. Didn’t make it.”
“Heard he was rich. Still had an old work shirt in the car. Faded, washed-out pink.”
“What a shame. So young.”
I didn’t say anything.
I just held my son’s hand a little tighter and pulled my daughter closer.
“Come on,” I said to Derek. “Let’s go check out that store.”
“Okay.”
The sun felt warm on our shoulders.
Our family of four walked slowly into the crowd.