CHAPTER 345: FINAL CALL (3)

Nick’s POV

Maybe it was because I’d finally learned what it meant to love someone enough to lose yourself for them. Maybe it was because Georgia had softened the parts of me I’d buried under years of anger.

Whatever it was, I wasn’t the same Nicholas Knight anymore.

And for the first time since I was a boy, I didn’t just see Violet as the woman who hurt me.

I saw her as a mother begging for her son.

Maybe it’s because of Georgia. Maybe it’s because of Katie. Or maybe it’s because I’m about to be a father, a child with my own blood. Whatever the reason, Violet’s pain didn’t hit me the way it used to. It didn’t spark anger or resentment; it cut straight through me.

I didn’t even realize I was crying until I saw a tear fall to the floor between us.

Damn it.

I tilted my head back and pinched the bridge of my nose, trying to hold myself together. But the more I looked at her, kneeling on that cold floor, trembling, head bowed like she was praying, the harder it was to stay stone-faced.

For the first time, I didn’t see the woman who made my childhood hell.

I saw a mother terrified of losing her son, I saw Georgia and my mother in her.

I reached into my pocket and pulled out a handkerchief. It was something my mom had taught me to always carry—"A gentleman always keeps one," she’d said, "because someday, you’ll need it to wipe a woman’s tears."

I guess today was that day. I am going to use it to wipe the tears of the woman whom I don’t love, but the tears of the woman who hated my very own existence.

I stepped forward, took Violet gently by the arms, and helped her to her feet. Her eyes widened slightly, as if she didn’t expect me to touch her without pulling away.

"Here," I said quietly, pressing the handkerchief into her hand. "Go home, Violet. Let me talk to Reagan first. I’m not promising anything... but I’ll see what I can do."

For a moment, she just looked at me, like she was searching for the boy she used to scold and dismiss, but finding someone else instead. Then she smiled, soft and shaky, and nodded.

She didn’t say a word. She just stood there wiping her tears as I turned and walked away.

And for the first time in a long, long while, I felt the weight between us start to lift... just a little, and perhaps this is the beginning of my true happiness.

When I walked into the visitation room, the first thing I saw was Reagan sitting across from Oliver. Between them was a table filled with takeout boxes and a paper bag that I recognized instantly; it was from Violet. Of course it was. She never could show love in words, only through actions.

They didn’t notice me come in. Reagan was too busy eating, head down, hands cuffed in front of him. Seeing him like that, the older brother I grew up with, the man who once strutted around like the world owed him something, broke something inside me.

He looked smaller. Tired. Human.

I didn’t say anything at first. I just stood there, watching him scoop another spoonful of rice, like he hadn’t eaten properly in days. My chest tightened. For all the things he’d done, I’d never once imagined I’d see him this way, behind bars, eating like he hadn’t a care, when I knew damn well he did.

When I finally reached for the chair, both he and Oliver looked up, startled.

Reagan quickly set his spoon down and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Sorry," he muttered, leaning back in his chair. "Didn’t really get much dinner last night."

I pulled the chair out and sat down across from him. "Don’t apologize," I said quietly. "Eat. I won’t stay long."

I hesitated. My mind felt like a fogged-up window, so many things I wanted to say, but none of them clear enough to start with.

"I came here to..." I trailed off and let out a sigh. "Hell, I don’t even know why I came. Or what I’m supposed to say."

Reagan didn’t speak. His head dropped, his shoulders tensed, and I could see him biting the inside of his cheek, holding something in.

For a moment, neither of us said anything. The silence between us was heavy, years’ worth of anger, resentment, guilt, and things we never said.

But underneath all that, I didn’t just see my enemy. I saw my brother.

"I... I know it’s too late to apologize," Reagan began, his voice breaking mid-sentence. "But if there’s one thing I am sorry for, it’s that I was stupid. I made choices that hurt people... people who didn’t deserve it. I hurt you, Liam, Dad, even Mom... and Sarah."

He paused and looked down, his cuffed hands tightening into fists.

"It was my birthday," he continued. "And that was the day I found out I wasn’t a real Knight, or at least confirmed it with my own eyes with the DNA result.

I was angry. At Mom. At Dad. At the world. I felt like everything I’d ever known was a lie. Raymond was the only one who understood me then. We were both... outsiders. The sons who didn’t really belong."

I swallowed hard, trying to stay quiet. He wasn’t making excuses, but damn, he didn’t sound like the proud kid I grew up with.

"I was the angriest at you," Reagan admitted, his eyes glancing up to meet mine for a brief moment before flickering away. "You had everything I wanted. You were Dad’s real son. His firstborn. The one he was proud of. And I—I was just the reminder of my mother’s misfortunes."

I felt that one hit deep. I knew how much he craved Dad’s approval. We all did.

"I thought I had real friends," he said, letting out a bitter laugh. "Raymond and Nancy... I trusted them. When they asked for help, I didn’t think twice. Raymond told me about David’s family owing money to Jay Gambino. It was bad—real bad. When Georgia’s father was alive, they were fine. But after the pandemic hit, their business crashed, and their debts ballooned."

He paused again, looking up at the ceiling, his eyes glistening. He was no longer the man I once knew.

******

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