Small.

Frantic.

Desperate.

I had kept it unopened for a year because I already knew what it would say. Men like Julian wrote apologies only when they ran out of options. They called regret transformation. They called desperation love. They used fatherhood as a final card.

I looked at the envelope and felt nothing.

Not numbness.

Not denial.

Nothing.

Julian Vance was history, not presence.

I dropped the letter into the shredder.

Then I picked up my platinum pen and signed the acquisition file:

Clara Sterling.

With that signature, I authorized the hostile takeover of Vance Logistics.

His family had tried to distance themselves from him, but they were weak, exposed, and bleeding money. By the time the deal closed, the Vance name would disappear into the Sterling portfolio.

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I walked to Leo and lifted him into my arms. He grabbed my collar and showed me his blocks like he had discovered something important.