Chapter 8 - JULIAN WITHOUT VICTORIA
Victoria was charged first.
Identity fraud conspiracy and related financial offenses.
No dramatic handcuffs at church.
She surrendered through counsel.
Julian blamed her.
Immediately.
That should not have surprised me.
It did.
His attorney approached Rachel.
Julian wanted to cooperate.
Against his mother.
He claimed Victoria designed everything.
Pressure.
Debt management.
Marriage plans.
The binder.
She manipulated him.
I read his statement.
Some might be true.
Victoria was controlling.
But Julian threw the rag.
Julian threatened food.
Julian submitted information.
Julian lied about Amanda.
Adults can be manipulated and still responsible.
Rachel asked:
“Do you want to meet him?”
“No.”
Then changed my mind.
“Yes.”
One meeting.
Lawyers present.
Neutral office.
Julian looked different.
No expensive suit.
Plain shirt.
No mother beside him.
He stared at me.
“I’m sorry.”
I waited.
“I was wrong.”
Still waited.
“My mom normalized things.”
I almost stood.
Then he corrected himself.
“I let her.”
Better.
He continued.
“I thought marriage meant you were supposed to prioritize me.”
“Prioritize isn't surrender.”
“I know.”
“Now.”
“Yes.”
He looked down.
“I was angry that you made more.”
Finally.
Truth.
“Why?”
“My father made more than Mom. He controlled everything.”
“And you thought that was manhood.”
“Yes.”
“I would have built with you.”
“I know.”
“No.”
My voice broke.
“You don't get to say that like you knew then.”
He looked at me.
“I would have paid debt with you if you told me. I would have made a budget. I would have delayed vacations. I would have helped your mother if needed.”
Tears filled my eyes.
“You didn't need to steal me.”
Julian cried.
“I know.”
This time the words did not anger me.
They were too late.
But true.
Then he said:
“I loved you.”
I answered:
“I loved you too.”
He looked hopeful.
Wrong.
I continued:
“That is why this hurt.”
Silence.
“Love does not cancel what you did.”
His face collapsed.
“Is there any chance—”
“No.”
Clear.
Kind.
Final.
He nodded.
May you like
That was the last private conversation we ever had.
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