“I can do that.”
“Second, I need time. I don’t know how much. Months, maybe longer. I’ll reach out when I’m ready. And you need to respect that. No more calls, no more voicemails, no showing up unannounced.”
“Okay.” His voice cracked. “Okay.”
“Third, and this is the most important one, I need you to understand something.”
I paused, choosing my words carefully.
“I don’t need your approval. I never did. I built my life without you, and I can continue building it without you. If we have a relationship going forward, it’s because I’m choosing to give you a chance—not because I need anything from you.”
“I understand.”
“Do you?”
A long pause.
“I’m trying to.”
“That’s a start.”
I took a breath.
“One more thing.”
“Will you ever be able to forgive me?”
The question caught me off guard.
“I don’t know, Dad. But I’m willing to try. That’s all I can promise.”
“That’s more than I deserve.”
For once, we agreed on something.
“I’ll be in touch,” I said. “When I’m ready.”
I hung up before he could respond.
Three months after the wedding, I sat in the Crest View Hospitality Group conference room, watching Elena present the Q3 results to our leadership team.
“Revenue is up thirty-one percent year-over-year,” she said, clicking to the next slide. “The Marriott partnership is exceeding projections. We’re already in discussions for two additional properties. And the Grand View Estate…”
She smiled.
“Booked solid through June of next year.”
Applause around the table. I allowed myself a small smile.
After the meeting, Elena lingered as the others filed out.
“There’s one more thing,” she said, her expression carefully neutral. “We received a venue inquiry this morning for the Arizona Real Estate Association’s holiday party.”
I raised an eyebrow.
“They want to book the Grand View?”
“They do. But here’s the catch.”
She pulled up an email on her tablet.
“The request came from Stanton Commercial Real Estate. Your father’s company is one of the sponsors.”
I stared at the screen for a long moment.
“He’s testing the waters,” I said finally. “Seeing if I’ll let him back in.”
“What do you want me to do?”
I thought about the past three months. The media attention had faded. My father had kept his word—no calls, no surprise visits, no public comments about me. Vanessa and I had exchanged a few texts. Nothing substantial, but the door remained open.
And business was business.
“Decline politely,” I said. “Tell them we’re fully booked for that date.”
Elena nodded.
“Already done. I just wanted you to know.”
“Thank you.”
She paused at the door.
“For what it’s worth, I think you made the right call. He needs to earn his way back. A booking request isn’t the same as an apology.”
