Chapter 37
581words
Before I could ask what he meant, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small velvet box. My heart began to race as he opened it, revealing a ring—not the ostentatious diamond he had given me years ago, but a simple, elegant band set with a single sapphire.
"This isn't about going back to what we were," he said softly. "It's about moving forward to something new. Something stronger, built on truth and understanding."
He took my hand, his eyes never leaving mine. "Olivia Bennett, I love you more today than I did when we first married—and I didn't think that was possible. I love your strength, your compassion, your resilience. I love the way you fight for what's right, the way you care for Lily, the way you've found it in your heart to give us a second chance."
Tears blurred my vision as he continued. "I'm not asking you to be my wife again. I'm asking you to be my partner, my best friend, my co-parent to Lily, my companion through whatever life brings next. Will you marry me, Liv? Not because of what we were, but because of who we are now?"
The question hung in the air between us, full of hope and possibility. Looking into his eyes—the eyes I had fallen in love with years ago, now deeper with experience and understanding—I knew my answer with absolute certainty.
"Yes," I whispered, my voice breaking with emotion. "Yes, Nathan. I will."
He slipped the ring onto my finger, then pulled me into his arms, his kiss conveying everything words couldn't—the joy of finding our way back to each other, the promise of a future together, the certainty that whatever challenges lay ahead, we would face them as one.
Later that evening, as we lay together planning for Lily's arrival, my phone rang. It was Diane.
"I didn't want you to hear this from the news," she said without preamble. "Victor has agreed to a plea deal. Full confession in exchange for a reduced sentence."
I sat up, stunned. "He's confessing? To everything?"
"Everything," Diane confirmed. "The tampering with your medical care, the conspiracy against Thomas Bennett, the Sullivan murders—all of it."
After I ended the call and shared the news with Nathan, we sat in silence, processing this unexpected development.
"Why would he do that?" I wondered aloud. "It's not like your father to give up."
Nathan was quiet for a moment, his expression thoughtful. "Maybe he's finally realized what it's cost him. His family, his legacy, his freedom. Maybe this is his way of trying to make amends."
"Do you think you'll ever forgive him?" I asked gently.
"I don't know," Nathan admitted. "What he did to you, to Lily's parents, to your father—those aren't things that can be easily forgiven. But I'm not going to let hatred consume me either. That would be giving him too much power."
I nodded, understanding completely. Forgiveness wasn't about excusing the inexcusable—it was about refusing to let pain and anger define our future.
"Tomorrow," I said, changing the subject, "we should take Lily shopping. She'll need things for her room."
Nathan smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners in that way I loved. "Her room. That sounds good."
