THE CEO's REGRET

CHAPTER 17: THIRTY-ONE

I opened the folder. Eight pages of clean, clinical surveillance. My address, my office, the Tuesday coffee shop, Isla’s school schedule, her after-school activities, even which door she used every morning. All of it written down like it was nothing.

Victor had read every word and done nothing. I turned the page and my stomach dropped. There was Isla at thirteen, standing just outside the school gates, bag slung over one shoulder. She was looking up at something off-camera, her grey eyes wide and soft, completely unguarded. The way she only looked when she thought no one was watching.

I stared until the edges of the room went blurry. My throat closed up, I gripped the table hard, forcing air into my lungs so I wouldn’t break right there. When I finally looked up, Sebastian was watching me.

His face was calm, but it was the empty kind of calm that comes after you’ve already fallen apart somewhere private. His eyes were red-rimmed.

“How did you find out?” I asked quietly.

“He sent me a letter last week.” His voice was low and flat, like the words had been rehearsed too many times. “Handwritten. He told me about the investigator, the report… the photographs.” He paused, swallowing. “He wanted me to know that he knew before I came to you.”

The silence stretched between us. “He wanted you to feel it,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

Sebastian met my eyes. “Yeah… he did.”

I leaned forward slightly. “This was never about protecting the family, if it was, he would’ve buried it forever. He told you because he needed you to understand exactly who holds the power.” I held his gaze. “That’s not a father protecting his legacy, Sebastian. That’s a man making sure his son never forgets who he belongs to.”

He didn’t answer right away. Pain flickered across his face… the slow, heavy kind of realization that hurts more because it’s been there all along.

“I know,” he said, the words rough and tired. “I see it now.”

“He’s spent your whole life saying he only does what’s necessary.” My voice cracked just a little. “But there was nothing necessary about this. Isla was twelve, he had her photographed outside her school, filed the pictures away, and let you grieve for four more years thinking you had nothing.” I swallowed hard. “That wasn't strategy, that was cruel.”

Sebastian’s jaw clenched. For a moment he looked like he might break. “I’m sorry,” he said, the words raw. He leaned forward, eyes locked on mine. “I know ‘sorry’ doesn’t even come close. It doesn’t fix any of it, but I’ve been saying it in my head for sixteen years, and I need you to hear it… I am so sorry, Naomi. For everything.”

The air felt thick, I looked at him and saw the twenty-three-year-old who had believed a lie for less than a day and carried the weight ever since. The 3 a.m. letter, the secret trust fund for a daughter he didn’t know existed.

“I hear you,” I said softly, my voice unsteady.

I slid the folder back across the table, picked up my bag, and stood. “Sebastian.” I stopped at the door, hand on the frame. “Thank you for telling me and coming to me first.” I met his eyes one last time. “That matters.”

He looked at me like he’d been braced for pain that hadn’t come yet, unsure whether to believe the quiet. I left before the silence could swallow us both.

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I drove home on autopilot, hands on the wheel while my mind stayed stuck on that photo of Isla… thirteen, innocent, unaware. Victor’s letter kept flashing in my head, and the same cold thought kept circling back, control. It was always about control.

When I unlocked the front door and stepped inside, I stopped cold. Jade was sitting at my kitchen table, completely still. That alone sent a jolt through me. Jade was never still, she was always moving, always talking. Seeing her like this, hands flat on the table, made my stomach twist.

In front of her sat an old, worn shoebox. Lid off, inside was a thick stack of envelopes, all in the same handwriting, my name on every one. I walked over slowly, the familiar script hit me like cold water.

I looked at Jade. Her eyes were shiny with tears she was fighting to hold back. She was waiting for me, barely holding herself together.

“I found them at Mom’s house,” she said, her voice small and trembling. “At the back of the wardrobe. I almost missed them.” She touched the stack gently with one finger. “Naomi…”

She looked up at me, her face starting to crumble. “There are thirty-one of them.”