"For now," she said softly. "But you know the truth won't stay buried forever."
----
Camilla unlocked the door and stepped into the apartment, heels clicking softly on the floor. The scent of red wine lingered in the air.
She stopped when she saw her elder sister, Regina, lounging on the velvet couch, wine glass in hand, a smug expression on her face as she sipped slowly.
"Regina?" Camilla asked, setting her bag down. "What's going on?"
Regina swirled her glass lazily and grinned. "Celebrating."
Camilla raised an eyebrow. "Celebrating what?"
Regina leaned back with satisfaction. "Canary's downfall. Joel's victory. Finally, some balance in the universe."
Camilla's expression darkened. "Are you serious? You actually wanted him to lose?"
Regina didn't hesitate. "Of course. After everything he did to us—first me, then you—and then running off with Lisa like we never mattered? This is justice."
Camilla folded her arms. "You think this is justice? Ruining his future? Helping Joel take over Andersons Group just to get back at him?"
Regina stood and walked toward her sister, her tone turning colder. "I'm doing this for both of us. You may still have feelings for him, but I don't. I see him for what he is—a user."
Camilla looked away, her voice softer. "He wasn't always like that, Regina."
"No," Regina agreed, taking another sip, "but he became that man the moment he chose Lisa over us."
She set the wine glass down. "So yes, I'll toast to this victory. Joel gets the company. Canary gets humiliated. And we finally get even."
Camilla said nothing. She just stared at the wine glass—reflecting not just the red liquid, but all the bitterness her sister had been carrying.
___
The engine hummed steadily in the still night as Joel drove through the quiet roads, his face lit only by the dashboard's dull glow. His jaw was clenched, eyes distant.
The weight of Lucy's words echoed in his mind but louder still were the ghosts of his own past.
He wasn't heading to a hotel. Or to any place of comfort.
He was going homeor what was once home.
Hours passed before he finally pulled off the main road and stopped outside a modest, aging house tucked under the shadow of tall trees.
The roof sloped slightly. The paint was fading. But it still stood unchanged since the days he held his newborn daughter in his arms.
The air was cold and still. Midnight surrounded him. The house was dark—its lights long gone, its life long vanished.
He sat in his car with his hands resting on the steering wheel and watched the small house.
This was where Belinda had nursed their baby. Where he had promised to come back with enough money to make everything better.
He hadn't made it in time. And both of them gone.
Joel walked a little closer but didn't knock. There were strangers living inside now. He could see the faint flicker of a lamp from inside, but it was quiet.
So he sat down on the hood of his car, right across from the house.
He looked at the windows like they were eyes from a dream he couldn't wake up from. He remembered Belinda's laugh. His daughter's first cry. The smell of baby powder and burnt toast in the morning.
And in the silence of the night, without a single tear falling, he grieved again.
Eventually, sleep found him his head resting against the windshield, dreams filled with voices he could no longer answer.
___
The following morning, The dining room was quiet, with only the soft clinking of cutlery and the hum of distant birds outside.
Lucy sat at the head of the table, a cup of tea cradled in her trembling hands. Her eyes were tired, her face pale despite the morning glow.
Canary walked in slowly, dressed in a fresh shirt and jeans, his expression calmer than the day before.
He paused for a second when he saw her, noticing how fragile she looked. Then he stepped closer and took a seat beside her.
"Morning, Mum."
Lucy glanced up with a faint smile. "Morning, dear."
He watched her carefully. "You look... tired."
"I'm fine," she said quickly, brushing it off. "Just didn't sleep much."
Canary didn't press her, though his eyes stayed on her face a moment longer.
There was a pause before he spoke again. "I'm sorry... for yesterday. For storming off. I just didn't know how to take it."
Lucy looked down into her tea. "It's okay. I understand."
Another silence passed.
Then Canary asked quietly, "Where's Joel?"
Lucy hesitated just for a second but then answered without meeting his gaze. "He left. Said there was no need to stay anymore."
Canary blinked. "Left? Just like that?"
She nodded. "He made his choice."
Canary leaned back in his chair, absorbing that. A strange silence settled over the table again.
"Did something happen between you two?" he asked gently.
Lucy forced a smile. "No... nothing like that. He just needed space. That's all."
Canary didn't believe her but he said nothing. Not yet.
He simply picked up a piece of toast and sat in the quiet morning, wondering what else was being kept from him.
The last crumbs of breakfast were cleared from the table. The air still hung heavy with unspoken thoughts, but Canary stood up and gently pushed in his chair.
"I'll be heading to the office," he said quietly, reaching for his blazer draped over the chair.
Lucy looked up at him, startled. "You're going to work?"
He nodded. "Yeah."
"But… what will you be doing? Joel took over all your positions. There's nothing left for you there," she said softly, regret laced in her voice.
Canary paused for a moment, then turned to her with a faint smile. "I'm going back to design. That's where my father started too. "
Lucy's eyes welled slightly. "Canary, I—"
"I know," he interrupted gently, not unkindly. "You voted for him. I don't blame you. You had your reasons."
She swallowed. "I was trying to make up for the past. But it doesn't mean I don't believe in you."
He gave a small nod. "All is well, Mum. Honestly. I'm fine wherever I work from. The company isn't just a title. I can still build something. I will."
Lucy watched him, heart heavy with pride and guilt all tangled in one.
Canary took a breath, straightened his shoulders, and headed toward the door with quiet determination.