He sla:pped me six times in front of his mistress, threw me out into the rain, and left me broken on the street. I called my father with one request: show him no mercy.

Then he said, “Tell her I’m sorry.”

I looked at Rebecca and nodded.

She asked, “For what, specifically?”

Grant exhaled.

“For everything.”

“That is not specific.”

Another silence.

“For hitting her,” he finally said. “For Vanessa. For the money. For losing control.”

Something loosened inside me.

It was not forgiveness.

It was confirmation.

He had finally admitted the truth because he had nowhere else to hide.

Rebecca ended the call.