CHAPTER 28: TOO LATE TO SAY SORRY

I wasn't expecting Alexander Blackwood to appear at my apartment.

Especially not without his usual security team.

It was nearly seven in the evening when someone knocked on my door. I looked through the peephole and froze.

Alexander stood outside.

He wore a dark coat, his hair slightly untidy, and his face carried the kind of exhaustion money couldn't hide.

For a moment, I considered pretending I wasn't home.

Then he knocked again.

“Amelia, I know you're there.”

I opened the door but didn't step aside.

“What are you doing here?”

“I came to talk. If you don't want me here, I'll leave.”

I studied him.

He wasn't holding flowers or an expensive gift. There was no familiar confidence in his expression, no expectation that I would simply let him in.

“Five minutes,” I said.

He nodded.

“Thank you.”

I stepped aside.

He entered and looked around the small apartment.

“You've made it comfortable.”

“It's still a work in progress.”

“I can see that.”

I closed the door.

“Your five minutes have started.”

He gave a faint nod.

“I won't take much of your time.”

I folded my arms.

“Then speak.”

He took a breath.

“I've spoken to Jonathan. He's formally separated your personal records from the Blackwood investigation. No one at the company can access your information without a documented legal reason. I've also arranged for your mother's treatment and Daniel's education to continue without any involvement from my office.”

I watched him carefully.

“Why?”

“Because they shouldn't have to suffer because of what happened between us.”

“And what about the money?”

“It's yours. I'm not asking for it back, and I won't use it to influence your decisions.”

I didn't respond.

He continued.

“I've also given Jonathan the full record of the original arrangement, including the information I withheld when you signed. He'll provide you with a copy. I want you to know exactly what I knew and when I knew it.”

That surprised me.

“You gave your lawyer evidence against yourself?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because I should have done it before you had to leave.”

His voice was quiet.

“I can't undo what I did, but I can stop pretending it didn't happen.”

For a moment, I didn't know what to say.

Then I asked, “Is that why you're here? To tell me you've finally done the right thing?”

“No.”

He looked directly at me.

“I'm here to apologize.”

He stood near the window, keeping a careful distance between us.

“I used your desperation,” he said. “I knew your mother needed treatment, and I knew Daniel's education was a constant worry. I offered help because I wanted you close enough to investigate your father's connection to my family.”

I swallowed.

“I suspected you were connected to the archive, and I didn't tell you. I allowed you to believe the agreement was only about protection and confidentiality. I knew the old arrangement might activate when you entered the mansion, and I still brought you there.”

His eyes lowered.

“I also used your fear of losing your family to make it easier for you to accept my offer. I told myself I was protecting you, but I was also protecting my investigation. I made choices about your life without giving you the truth you needed to make your own choices.”

The room was silent.

“I am sorry, Amelia.”

He paused.

“Not because you left. Not because I miss having you in that house. I'm sorry because I treated you like a solution to a problem instead of a person who deserved honesty.”

My eyes stung.

I looked away.

“Do you know how humiliating it was to realize that?”

“Yes.”

“No, Alexander. You don't.”

I turned toward him.

“I thought you were beginning to see me. Not my father's name. Not the archive. Not the girl who could help you find something. Me.”

“I did see you.”

“Then why did you keep hiding things?”

“Because I was afraid.”

“Of losing control?”

He nodded.

“And I lost you because of it.”

His voice was rough.

I sat down on the sofa.

He remained standing until I gestured toward the chair opposite me.

He sat.

“I don't expect you to forgive me,” he said.

“Good.”

A faint, sad smile crossed his face.

“I deserve that.”

I studied him.

“Why now?”

He looked at his hands.

“Because I finally understood that I couldn't ask you to trust me while keeping the truth from you. And because I don't want to become the kind of man who only changes when he is afraid of losing something.”

I was quiet.

He looked up.

“Before you, I believed that control was the same as safety. I thought if I had enough information, enough money, enough people watching every door, nothing could surprise me.”

“And now?”

“Now I understand that all I've done is make everyone around me afraid to tell me the truth.”

His expression softened.

“You made me want to be better than that.”

My chest tightened.

“Alexander…”

“I know feelings aren't enough. I'm not asking you to come back. I'm not asking you to give me another chance tonight.”

He paused.

“But I need you to know something. The thing I fear most isn't losing the company or the Blackwood name.”

He looked straight at me.

“It's that I've lost the only person who made me want to become a better man, and that I deserve it.”

For a moment, I couldn't speak.

I remembered the man I had seen crying over Evelyn's photograph. The man who had kissed me and then pretended it hadn't happened. The man who had made me feel safe one day and betrayed the next.

I still cared about him.

That was the part I couldn't control.

But caring wasn't the same as trusting.

“I'm glad you're trying to change,” I said eventually. “But I can't be the reason you become a better person. You have to do that for yourself.”

He nodded.

“I know.”

“And I can't promise that one day I'll come back.”

“I understand.”

I looked at him.

“Do you?”

“Yes.”

He leaned forward slightly.

“I would like to earn your trust again. Even if it takes years. Even if all you ever give me is the chance to prove I can tell the truth.”

The honesty in his voice reached somewhere inside me that I had tried very hard to close.

For a moment, I wanted to cross the room and hold him.

Instead, I stayed where I was.

“I need time,” I whispered.

“I'll give you time.”

He stood.

I walked him to the door.

For a second, we stood facing each other, close enough that I could see the small lines of exhaustion around his eyes.

He lifted his hand as if he wanted to touch my cheek, then stopped.

I noticed the hesitation.

So did he.

He lowered his hand.

“Goodnight, Amelia.”

“Goodnight, Alexander.”

He left without asking me to follow him.

And somehow, that hurt more than if he had tried.

I closed the door and leaned against it.

My phone vibrated.

A message from Jake.

We need to meet tomorrow. I found the person who approved the original payment.

My heart began to race.

Before I could reply, another message arrived.

Don't contact Alexander yet. Someone inside Blackwood knows we've found the record.

I stared at the screen.

Then my phone rang.

Alexander.

I answered immediately.

“What's wrong?”

His voice was different now. The exhaustion had disappeared, replaced by the cold authority I knew so well.

“Amelia, are you alone?”

“Yes. Why?”

“Lock your door. Don't let anyone in.”

My stomach tightened.

“What happened?”

“I just received a message from Victoria.”

“What did she say?”

There was a brief silence.

“She found the original authorization record. The person who approved the payment to your father wasn't my father, and it wasn't Sebastian.”

I gripped the phone.

“Then who was it?”

Alexander's voice dropped.

“Someone who has been inside my company for years. Someone who had access to Evelyn's files, Richard's investigation, and your personal records.”

“Who?”

Before he could answer, I heard a notification on his end.

He went silent.

“Alexander?”

“Stay on the phone.”

I heard him open something.

Then his breathing changed.

“What is it?” I asked.

His voice was almost a whisper.

“Victoria just sent another message.”

“What does it say?”

He didn't answer immediately.

Then he spoke.

“The person responsible knows we've found the evidence. And they've just ordered the original archive destroyed.”

My blood ran cold.

“Can they destroy it?”

“I don't know.”

A second later, his voice hardened.

“But they're not going to get away with it.”

The call ended.

I stood in the middle of my apartment, holding my phone.

For the first time, I understood that the truth wasn't simply waiting to be discovered.

Someone was desperate to keep it buried.

And they were prepared to destroy anyone who came close.