“You knew exactly what you were signing,” I said.

He lowered his head. “I thought it was normal. Everyone in our circle did it. I thought money and connections would protect us forever.” Then he took a breath and finally said what he’d actually come to ask.

“We can start over together, Maisie. I can change completely.” He gripped his knees, watching me. “You were always so good to me. If you told the media I was just upset yesterday, that I didn’t mean to humiliate you — maybe people would stop seeing me as a monster.”

And there it was. His repentance still came with conditions. It hadn’t come for my pain, or my father’s tears. It had come because his last name no longer opened doors.

“You don’t want our love back,” I told him. “You want back the image you lost.”

He tried to take my hand. I pulled it away.