Chapter 20 - Helen’s First Visit
Helen was released years later under supervision after serving the required portion of her sentence.
By then Matthew was eleven.
She did not show up at our house.
That mattered.
Her lawyer sent notice.
Helen would live in a small condo owned through legitimate remaining assets.
No Monroe Freight.
No foundation control.
No access to Dylan’s accounts.
No family management role.
She asked Austin? Different story. Clara. She asked Edward to tell me she wanted to see Matthew.
Edward refused.
“Ask through proper channel.”
Good.
Her attorney sent request.
I said no.
Six months later:
Again.
No.
Then Matthew learned she was home.
“Can I see her?”
I froze.
“Why?”
“I want to ask something.”
Therapist.
Commander? No.
This was family.
After careful preparation, I agreed to one supervised visit at a counseling center.
Helen entered slowly.
Hair gray now.
No elegant control.
Just an older woman.
Matthew stared.
She stared at the small scar near his ear.
“I’m sorry.”
He did not answer.
Then:
“You hit me because of my car?”
Helen closed eyes.
“No.”
“Then why?”
“Because the car reminded me of things your dad knew, and I was terrified.”
“Of me?”
“No.”
“Then why hit me?”
Helen cried.
“Because I was angry and cruel and you were smaller than the people I was really afraid of.”
I inhaled sharply.
That was honest.
Matthew thought.
“Did you hate Dad?”
“No.”
“You called him sick in the head.”
“I lied.”
“Why?”
“Because if people believed him, I would have to admit what I had done.”
Matthew looked at me.
Then back.
“Did Dad hate you?”
“No.”
“How do you know?”
Helen whispered:
“Your mom showed me one sentence from his video through my lawyer.”
I had allowed her to receive Julian’s line:
If Helen ever says I hated her, that isn’t true.
Maybe I wanted her to know Julian had been kinder than she deserved.
Then Matthew asked:
“Do you still think I’m worthless?”
Helen covered her face.
“No.”
He stood.
“I’m done.”
The supervisor ended visit.
Outside, I asked:
“Okay?”
“No.”
“Do you want another visit someday?”
“I don’t know.”
Perfectly valid.
Months passed.
Then he asked again.
Short.
Then another.
Helen never pushed.
If she had, contact would end.
Over years, a relationship formed.
Not grandmother restoring throne.
A woman Matthew chose to know carefully.
Then one day Helen asked me:
“Will you ever forgive me?”
I answered:
“I forgave parts.”
She looked confused.
“The fear?”
“Some.”
“The money?”
“No.”
“The slap?”
“Not yet.”
May you like
She nodded.
Forgiveness did not need to be total.
