Chapter 8 - The Inheritance of Truth
Silence descended once more upon the small apartment. The only sound was the steady patter of the rain outside the kitchen window.
Corbin turned back to Lianna. She had sunk into a kitchen chair, burying her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking with silent, exhausted sobs.
"I'm sorry," she whispered through her fingers. "I didn't want to use it. I swore to Julian before he died that I would find a way to raise Austin honestly, without taking a single cent of blood money from the Stanfords. But when the rent went up... when the grocery prices doubled... I didn't have a choice."
Corbin stepped closer. He didn't touch her—he knew she didn't want pity from a Stanford. Instead, he reached into his breast pocket, pulled out his platinum business card, and laid it gently on the table right next to the blue envelope.
Then he reached into his wallet, pulled out a crisp, hundred-dollar bill, and placed it on top of the card.
"That's for the formula, Lianna," he said quietly. "And for every diaper, every bus ride, and every sleepless night you've had to endure because my family lied to you."
Lianna looked up, her red eyes staring at the bill, then up at Corbin’s face. There was no condescension in his expression—only a profound, crushing weight of accountability.
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"What happens now?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper.
"Now," Corbin said, pulling the blue envelope against his chest, "we fix it."
