Christabel's mother disappeared.
Not because she was hiding.
Because she was dying.
And Christabel had to decide whether to say goodbye.
---
The call came from a hospital.
Not in the city. In a small town hours away. The kind of place where people went to disappear.
"Mrs. Moreau?"
"Yes."
"Your mother has been admitted to our facility. She's asked to see you."
Christabel's heart stopped.
"What's wrong with her?"
"She's dying."
---
She set down the phone.
Her hands were shaking.
Her heart was pounding.
Damien was in the doorway.
"What is it?"
"My mother."
"What about her?"
"She's dying."
---
He walked to her.
Took her hands.
"Are you going to see her?"
"I don't know."
"She's your mother."
"She stopped being my mother the day she faked her death."
"She's still your mother."
"She's a stranger who shares my blood."
"Then treat her like a stranger. Go see her. Say goodbye. Close the door."
"And if I can't?"
"Then don't."
---
That night, Christabel put Lena to bed.
Not Damien. Her.
She read her daughter a story. Not a baby book. A real story. One of her favorites.
"There was a woman who was afraid of saying goodbye," she read. "Until she realized that goodbye wasn't the end. It was just another beginning."
Lena stared at her.
"Bah," she said.
"That's right," Christabel said. "Bah."
---
Damien was in the doorway.
"She said it again."
"She said it to me."
"She said it to both of us."
She closed the book.
Set it on the nightstand.
"She's going to be brave."
"She's going to be just like you."
"God help the world."
"God help anyone who tries to make her afraid."
---
They stood over the crib together.
Lena was asleep. Her tiny chest rose and fell.
"I'm going to see her," Christabel said.
"Tomorrow?"
"Tomorrow."
"Do you want me to come?"
"No."
"Christabel—"
"She needs to see me alone. She needs to know that I'm not afraid."
"Are you?"
She looked at him.
"Terrified."
"Then let me come with you."
"No. This is something I have to do myself."
---
The next morning, Christabel drove to the hospital.
Alone.
No Damien. No guards. No weapons.
Just her.
And the mother who was dying.
---
The hospital was small.
White walls. Fluorescent lights. The smell of antiseptic and fear.
Her mother's room was at the end of the hall.
Christabel stood outside the door.
Her hand on the handle.
She couldn't open it.
---
A nurse appeared.
"Are you here for Mrs. Vance?"
"Yes."
"She's been asking for you."
"I know."
"Are you going to go in?"
Christabel looked at the door.
"I don't know."
---
The nurse touched her arm.
"She's not the same woman you remember. She's smaller. Weaker. More afraid."
"My mother was never afraid of anything."
"Everyone is afraid of dying."
---
Christabel opened the door.
Her mother was in the bed.
Tubes. Wires. Machines beeping.
She looked smaller than Christabel remembered.
Weaker.
Older.
"Christabel."
"Mother."
"You came."
"I came."
"I didn't think you would."
"I almost didn't."
"What changed?"
Christabel sat in the chair beside the bed.
"I decided I was tired of being afraid."
---
Her mother smiled.
The same smile Christabel remembered from childhood.
But softer now.
Weaker.
"I'm proud of you."
"For what?"
"For everything. For the company. For the empire. For the family you've built."
"You tried to destroy it."
"I tried to take it. There's a difference."
"Is there?"
Her mother was quiet for a moment.
"I was wrong."
---
Christabel stared at her.
"What?"
"I was wrong. About everything. About your father. About you. About the choices I made."
"You killed him."
"I know."
"You abandoned me."
"I know."
"You tried to destroy my family."
"I know."
"And now you're sorry?"
Her mother nodded.
Tears filled her eyes.
"I'm sorry."
---
Christabel was silent.
The machines beeped.
The city hummed beyond the window.
"Why now?" Christabel asked.
"Why now what?"
"Why are you sorry now? Because you're dying? Because you have nothing left to lose?"
"Because I'm finally seeing clearly."
"And what do you see?"
Her mother looked at her.
"I see my daughter. The one I left behind. The one I tried to destroy. The one who became everything I wanted to be."
"You wanted to be me?"
"I wanted to be happy."
---
Christabel stood.
Walked to the window.
Looked out at the city.
"I'm not going to forgive you."
"I know."
"I'm not going to forget what you did."
"I know."
"I'm not going to let you near my daughter."
"I know."
"Then why did you ask me to come?"
Her mother was quiet for a moment.
"Because I wanted to see you one last time."
---
Christabel turned.
"You wanted to see me?"
"You're my daughter. My only daughter. The only family I have left."
"You have Sarah."
"Sarah won't come. She told me."
"Then you have no one."
Her mother nodded.
"I have no one."
---
Christabel walked back to the bed.
Sat in the chair.
Took her mother's hand.
"I'm not going to say I forgive you."
"I know."
"I'm not going to say I love you."
"I know."
"But I'm here."
"You're here."
"And I'm not leaving."
---
Her mother cried.
Not the silent tears Christabel remembered.
The kind that came from somewhere deep.
Somewhere that had been hidden for years.
"Thank you," her mother whispered.
"Don't thank me."
"Why not?"
"Because I'm not doing this for you."
"Then who are you doing it for?"
Christabel looked at her.
"Myself."
---
She stayed for an hour.
Then two.
Then three.
They talked about the past. About the choices that had brought them here. About the woman her mother used to be and the woman she had become.
"I was so angry," her mother said. "At your father. At the world. At myself."
"And now?"
"Now I'm tired."
"That's not an answer."
"It's the only one I have."
---
When Christabel finally left, the sun was setting.
The sky was orange and pink and gold.
Damien was waiting in the car.
"How was it?"
"Hard."
"Did she say she was sorry?"
"Yes."
"Did you believe her?"
Christabel was quiet for a moment.
"I don't know."
---
They drove home in silence.
The city was dark.
The streets were empty.
Lena was awake. The nanny was holding her.
Christabel took her daughter.
Pressed her face to Lena's soft hair.
"I saw my mother today," she whispered.
Lena cooed.
"She's dying. She's sorry. She wanted to see me one last time."
Lena grabbed her finger.
Held on tight.
"I don't know if I forgive her. But I'm glad I went."
---
Damien appeared in the doorway.
"She's awake," he said.
"She's hungry."
"I'll make a bottle."
"She wants to nurse."
He walked to her.
Sat on the floor beside the rocking chair.
"Are you okay?"
"I will be."
"She's dying?"
"Yes."
"Are you going to see her again?"
"I don't know."
---
Lena finished nursing.
Fell asleep against Christabel's chest.
"She's out," Christabel said.
"She's perfect."
"She's ours."
Damien stood.
Took Lena from her arms.
Laid her in the crib.
Then he walked back to Christabel.
Took her hand.
"Come with me."
"Where?"
"The garden."
---
They sat on the bench beneath the tree.
The city was dark. The stars were bright.
"I'm glad I went," Christabel said.
"I'm glad too."
"I'm glad I said goodbye."
"Did you?"
"Not yet."
"When will you?"
She looked at him.
"Soon."