Chapter 25 - The Apology That Came Too LateMiranda asked to meet Ethan in April.
The request came through their attorneys.
She didn't want money.
Didn't want to negotiate the Ferrari.
Didn't want him to intervene in the legal review.
She wanted to apologize.
Ethan almost refused.
He had spent four years learning to live without Miranda.
The breakup had hurt.
The showroom incident had reopened that wound.
And the investigation had revealed that she'd helped provide documents later used in a false inspection.
He wasn't sure what hearing her apology would accomplish.
But after discussing the request with Lydia, he agreed to one meeting.
They met in a small conference room at Lydia's office.
Both attorneys remained present.
Miranda arrived wearing a plain cream blouse and dark trousers.
Her hair was shorter than Ethan remembered.
She looked tired.
When she entered, Ethan stood.
“Miranda.”
“Ethan.”
For a moment, neither knew what to say.
Then they sat.
Miranda folded her hands.
“I don't know where to start.”
Ethan waited.
She looked at him.
“I was cruel to you.”
He said nothing.
“At the dealership. Four years ago. Even before that.”
Ethan looked down.
Miranda continued.
“I convinced myself that leaving you was the only way to have a future. You were working all the time, and we were always worried about money.”
He nodded slowly.
“I remember.”
“I was afraid.”
“So was I.”
She looked surprised.
Ethan continued.
“I was afraid Axiom would fail. Afraid Dad's garage wouldn't survive. Afraid you were going to leave.”
Miranda lowered her eyes.
“I know.”
He shook his head.
“I don't think you did.”
She began crying.
“You're right.”
For several seconds, the room was quiet.
Then Miranda spoke again.
“When I saw you in the showroom, I thought you'd come back to prove something.”
Ethan looked at her.
“I didn't know you worked there.”
She stared.
“You really didn't?”
“No.”
Miranda closed her eyes.
She had spent months telling herself the encounter was deliberate.
That Ethan had chosen the dealership to embarrass her.
That he wanted her to discover his wealth.
Now she understood how much of that story she'd invented to protect herself.
“I was angry because you looked the same,” she whispered.
Ethan frowned.
“What does that mean?”
“The coat. The shoes. The way you didn't care what anyone thought.”
He smiled faintly.
“I cared.”
Miranda looked up.
“I thought if you'd become successful, you'd look different.”
Ethan considered that.
“I did become different. Just not in the way you expected.”
She wiped her tears.
“I know.”
Her voice trembled.
“I also need to apologize for what happened with your father.”
Ethan's expression changed.
Miranda continued.
“I gave Derek copies of Samuel's old forms. I believed his explanation at first. But later, I approved the Ferrari's sales file even though I knew the inspection date couldn't be right.”
Ethan stared at her.
“Why?”
“I was afraid of losing my job. Afraid of Derek. Afraid of going back to the life I came from.”
He looked away.
“My father was already dead.”
“I know.”
“Someone used his name to tell buyers he'd approved a car he wouldn't certify while he was alive.”
Miranda began crying harder.
“I know.”
Ethan looked at her.
“And you let the document stay in the system.”
“Yes.”
The admission hung between them.
He had imagined confronting her angrily.
Instead, he felt a deep sadness.
Samuel had been kind to Miranda.
He had welcomed her into the family.
He had treated her like a daughter.
And she had allowed his professional name to be misused.
Miranda reached into her handbag.
She removed a small photograph.
It showed Samuel standing beside Ethan in the garage.
“I kept this,” she said.
Ethan looked at it.
His father's arm rested across his shoulders.
They were both smiling.
Miranda placed the photograph on the table.
“I don't expect you to forgive me.”
Ethan studied her.
“Then why are you here?”
She took a shaky breath.
“Because I wanted to tell you the truth without asking you to rescue me from the consequences.”
He looked at her for a long moment.
Then he nodded.
“That's a start.”
Miranda's eyes filled again.
“Do you hate me?”
Ethan considered the question.
Four years earlier, he would have said yes.
Then no.
Then perhaps.
Now he understood that those answers had all been attempts to keep her important in his life.
“I don't hate you,” he said.
Miranda looked relieved.
But he continued.
“I don't trust you, either.”
She lowered her eyes.
“I understand.”
“And I'm not going to tell the investigators that what you did doesn't matter.”
“I wouldn't ask you to.”
Ethan nodded.
The meeting ended without an embrace.
No promise of friendship.
No suggestion they might try again.
Miranda left with her attorney.
Ethan remained seated.
Lydia waited.
“How do you feel?”
He looked toward the photograph Miranda had returned.
“Like I finally stopped waiting for her to understand me.”
Lydia smiled faintly.
“That's significant.”
Ethan picked up the photograph.
He remembered Samuel saying that some things weren't his to repair.
For years, he'd thought the lesson concerned Miranda.
Now he realized it also concerned the version of himself who kept hoping she would return and prove he had always been worth loving.
May you like
He no longer needed her to do that.
He already knew.
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