Chapter 89
Mirabelle’s POV:
“Grandpa?” I exclaimed, my voice louder than I intended. “What the hell-why are you out here so late?”
Edward Sylvester, with his ever-calm demeanor, tilted his head toward me from his seat. Even in the dim light, his eyes carried the same warmth that had always comforted me, though they now looked undeniably weary.
“I couldn’t sleep.” He said simply, with his hands resting over his cane.
“You couldn’t sleep, so you decided to sit here in the dark and scare the life out of me?” I asked, trying to sound annoyed, though the relief that it was just him, and not my mind playing tricks, was already flooding through me.
He let out a soft chuckle, the kind that felt like a soothing balm over my tired nerves. “I wasn’t trying to scare you, dear. I was thinking.”
“Thinking?” I echoed, crossing the room and lowering myself into the chair opposite him. “About what?”
He exhaled deeply, leaning back into his seat as if the weight of his thoughts was heavier than the air between us. “About you.”
The simplicity of his answer made my heart ache. “Grandpa, I-”
“I saw the news, Mirabelle.” His voice was calm, but there was an edge of sorrow beneath it, a silent disappointment that wasn’t directed at me but at the issue itself.
My throat tightened. Shame rose in me like a wave, threatening to choke me. “I’m sorry.” The words came out as barely a whisper.
“For what?” He tilted his head, the way he used to when I was a child caught sneaking cookies from the jar.
“For… for dragging everyone into this mess.” My voice cracked, and I hated how weak I sounded. “The kids… you… you don’t deserve this. Any of this.”
He leaned forward, his cane forgotten as he clasped my hand. His grip was firm but comforting. “Mirabelle, life isn’t about deserving or not deserving. It’s about weathering the storms that come your way. And you, my dear, have been through enough storms for a lifetime. But don’t ever think you’re standing in them alone. We’re family. We stick together. Always.”
I froze at his words. A lump rose in my throat, and I blinked hard, willing the tears not to fall. The lump only grew when he patted my hand gently, like he was trying to pacify a little girl that scraped her knees.
“You’ve built something incredible here, Belle. They can try to tear it down, but they can’t take away who you are.”
I managed a shaky nod, my lips trembling as I whispered. “Thank you.”
His words, simple as they were, brought a lump to my throat. I nodded, unable to speak, and he reached over to pat my hand gently. “Now!” He said, standing up slowly with the help of his cane, “You should get some rest. We will talk about everything tomorrow, and also I think it’s best you tell Noah about everything yourself. I don’t think it’s good for him to have to hear about it from the news or an acquaintance.” He advised me.
I hesitated, watching him carefully. “How did you know that I haven’t told Noah?”
He gave me a pointed look, his eyes twinkling faintly despite the weariness on his face. “Because he called a few minutes ago. To check up on you. And he said that you haven’t been picking up his calls since yesterday.”
My heart sank. “Oh.” It was all I could say.
Edward turned back toward his chair, settling his weight against his cane as he studied me for a long moment. “I don’t know why you haven’t spoken to him, and it’s not my place to ask. But I’ll say this-there’s strength in leaning on others. You don’t have to carry this alone.”
I wanted to tell him that I couldn’t, because Noah was the last person I could lean on now. But the words died in my throat.
As he turned toward the stairs, his steps slow and steady, he glanced back one last time. “Tomorrow will come, Belle, whether you’re ready or not. Face it head-on. And remember-I’m here, no matter what.”
The silence he left behind was deafening.
For a while, I sat in the dark room, staring at nothing. His words lingered, circling around my mind. “You don’t have to carry this alone.” But wasn’t that what I’d been doing all along?
Taking a deep breath I climbed up to the stairs heading to my room. When I arrived, I closed the door to my room, leaning against it for a moment as the day’s weight pressed down on me. Kicking off my shoes, I shuffled to the bed and dropped onto it. The cool sheets welcomed me, but my body refused to relax. My mind raced, the events of the day flashing in fragments: The reporters, Grandpa’s words, the questions I didn’t want to face.
Sleep was out of the question.
I reached for my laptop and phone on the nightstand. Maybe throwing myself into work would distract me from the noise in my head. My company-no, my soon to be former company, was in a mess that I couldn’t afford to ignore any longer. If I can’t fix the chaos, I could at least try to understand what caused it.
Flipping open the laptop, I started to browse through old emails, financial reports, and news articles. The patterns didn’t add up. A sudden drop in investor confidence. Key accounts mysteriously backing out. Legal suits popping up like weeds. It didn’t feel random-it felt planned.
So it wasn’t just a coincidence, the two companies that were shutdown weren’t done by the government. And same goes with rumors from the board meeting earlier.
They were all planned out.
I scrolled through my phone, that was when I came across a notification. And it caused my chest to tighten.
Three missed calls from Ken.
Twenty-four missed calls from Noah.
Not long ago, seeing Noah’s name fill my call log would have sent my heart racing, but now? Now it meant nothing.