Chapter 12
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The snow in Switzerland began to melt, with crystal-clear droplets hanging on the cold iron railings.
My body had completely recovered a month ago.
I must declare one thing at this moment—my legs were never injured, not once.
The night I was sent to the hospital, what I lost was my child.
The reason I sat in that wheelchair for so long was initially due to the extreme weakness following the curettage procedure.
But later...
When I watched Silas standing in punishment day after day from the sanatorium window;
When I learned the whole truth about the "Necessary Evil";
When my father reappeared before me...
This wheelchair became my cocoon.
It became my shield.
I hid inside it.
I used it to show Silas my "brokenness," to remind him of his unpayable sins.
I used it to... escape from this world.
Sitting in the wheelchair, I could feel justified in not thinking about the future, not thinking about where to go.
After all, no one would force a person in a wheelchair to "walk" toward the future.
But now, it's all over.
Savannah has been charged. Father's innocence has been vindicated. The shares of the Lancaster Group have also returned to the Windsor family name.
I've decided to go to London.
When I set the next step for my life, when I finally overcame my inner trauma, this wheelchair became my final restraint.
Today, I didn't let the nurse help me.
All alone, in the hospital room, I slowly stood up from that wheelchair I had depended on for months.
My feet touched the solid ground once again.
Goodbye.
Goodbye, this wheelchair that let me escape from the world.
…………
In the garden of the Sanatorium, the lawn had begun showing new green sprouts.
Wearing the beige trench coat that Oliver bought for me, I stood beside my father. He excitedly held my hand, as if I were an infant who had just learned to walk.
Oliver stood on my other side, his face bearing a relieved smile.
"Fiona," he said softly, "the Art Gallery in London is ready. We can start our new life anytime."
I nodded.
Just then, outside the courtyard's iron gate, that Maybach came to a stop.
Silas stepped out.
Today he wasn't wearing that penitential black coat. He wore a well-tailored gray suit, and had cleanly shaved his stubble.
He had regained the dignity of the King of New York.
Only those blue eyes had completely lost their soul, becoming an empty, calm Dead Sea.
He walked over and stopped outside the iron gate.
Then, he saw me.
He saw me... standing.
Me, no longer needing a wheelchair.
His body suddenly froze.
A flash of intense pain crossed his eyes, which were like the Dead Sea.
He understood. He completely understood.
I stood up.
This meant that I no longer needed his "confession," and I was no longer the "victim" he could "compensate."
I, Fiona Windsor, was about to walk toward my own rebirth.
"Uncle Windsor." He spoke, his voice hoarse but calm.
"Fiona."
He didn't come any closer, just looked at us from a distance across that fence.
"I... have done everything I could."
"The equity transfer, Savannah's lawsuit, and... uncle's reputation. It's all over."
He lowered his head, as if using all the strength in his body.
"I know I can never make up for what I've done."
"And I don't dare ask for forgiveness."
Finally, he looked at me deeply. That look spanned across hatred, betrayal, and that dead child.
"I will leave Switzerland tomorrow."
"I wish you... happiness."
After saying this, he slowly turned around.
He didn't kneel down again, nor did he beg anymore.
He just, step by step, walked toward his car.
That silhouette was as lonely as a ghost.
"Fiona." Oliver stepped forward, looking at me tenderly, "Let's go back. London is waiting for us."
"Child," my father squeezed my hand, "he has tried his best. But whatever decision you make, dad will support you."
I stood in the melting snow.
I watched Silas's retreating figure.
He was about to reach the iron gate.
He was about to forever disappear from my life.
I spoke up.
"Silas."
I heard my own voice, traveling across this courtyard where everything was coming back to life.
His tall figure suddenly froze.
His hand gripped the door handle tightly.
He stopped.
He didn't turn around.
But, he stopped.
(The End)
