Chapter 17 - Victor Returns To His Small Apartment
That night in New York, Victor walked into his tiny studio apartment in Queens after finishing his courier shift.
He set his stack of unsold vendor folders on the counter, sitting down on the edge of his narrow bed.
He pulled out his cheap smartphone, opening a web browser to search for news coverage of the UN Infrastructure Summit.
A high-definition video of my keynote address played on the screen, showing me standing at the podium before hundreds of world leaders.
I spoke with absolute confidence, authority, and intelligence, receiving a standing ovation from the entire assembly at the end.
Beside the video was an interview article featuring my daughters, who had accompanied me to New York for the weekend.
Abigail was quoted speaking about her acceptance into the Royal Academy of Music in London.
Charlotte was pictured holding a trophy for a youth equestrian championship in Oxfordshire.
Victor held the phone close to his face, tears streaming silently down his cheeks in the dark studio room.
He remembered the morning of our divorce at 10:16 AM, when he had scoffed at my warning about life balancing the books.
He had thought he was taking everything that mattered—the penthouse, the SUV, his freedom, and his unborn son.
He had thought he was leaving me with nothing.
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Now, sitting in an empty room four thousand miles from the family he threw away, he finally understood the true cost of his arrogance.
He had given up a gold mine to chase a handful of glittering dust.
