"Your words didn’t break us. But they did hurt soone—your son, Finn. And that’s what made us all angry."
Nina’s words replayed in the minds of the Davis couple as they sat quietly in the back of their car. After that was said, a long silence had followed.
Nina had simply told them that if they wanted to apologize, they should apologize to Finn. She appreciated their effort to do the right thing, but forgiveness had to co from the one who was truly hurt. If they apologized to Finn, then maybe the Bennet and Cortez families would still hold so hostility, but at least her family would know how to put her happiness above their own feelings.
If Finn forgave them, then they might talk about it again. For now, Nina expressed that it wasn’t her call. And since she had already said that, Charles, Allison, and Jessa didn’t say anything anymore.
With that, the Davis couple had left just as quietly as they had arrived with Charles.
Mr. Davis glanced at his wife, opened his mouth to speak, but then closed it again. He turned away, setting his eyes on the window beside him.
Silence weighed heavily on their shoulders for a while.
"She’s right," he said after another minute of silence. "The only person we truly hurt here is our son, not them."
Because in the end, Nina’s words also applied to the Davis couple. Whatever the Bennet and Cortez families’ opinions were, it didn’t matter to them.
Mrs. Davis let out a sharp huff but said nothing. She still maintained her strong front, but if she truly disagreed, she would’ve spoken by now.
Instead, she gazed out the window, replaying Nina’s words and trying to find a clear rebuttal. But nothing ca. Every argunt she could think of sounded hollow, nothing more than excuses and twisted justifications.
"I still believe Finn and Cassandra were good together," Mrs. Davis murmured. "Had it not been for the scandal Cassandra got involved in, I might’ve been able to do sothing about this."
"Still that?" he said, turning to her with a frown.
Mrs. Davis t his eyes. "What do you want to say? It’s not like I believed those rumors—"
"I think you’re just saying this to distract yourself from the fact that we’ve always failed," he cut in sharply. "No matter how much we’ve achieved, we’ve always failed to be parents to him. Will you still deny that?"
Mrs. Davis’s face faltered, her throat tightening as she swallowed hard.
’No, I didn’t. I... everything we did is for him,’ was what she wanted to say—but she couldn’t. Not after he had said it aloud.
Mr. Davis exhaled deeply and leaned back, loosening his tie.
"I sat down with Charles Bennet before this," he said, snapping his eyes back to the window. "Obviously, we agreed on a truce. This back-and-forth between us—it’s been childish."
He paused, thinking back to that brief mont alone with Charles before everything unfolded. After all, he and Charles had arrived at the restaurant together, and Mrs. Davis had joined them outside.
So, the two n had a mont to speak.
"Compared to Miller’s Company or even Global Pri Logistics, our reach is far wider," he continued calmly. "And yet, Charles was able to give us both a headache. Logically, that shouldn’t have been possible. Do you know why that is? How could soone like him disrupt us the way he did, even without the Pierson’s help?"
He turned his head to his wife. "Because the people he deals with have always known him as a man who would do anything for his wife and kids. That reputation was established long ago."
"So whenever he makes a move, and those he reaches out to understand the reason behind it, they help him willingly. Not because they understand what being a parent is," he added, shaking his head, "but because they don’t want to get in the way. They know it won’t end well. They’d rather burn a bridge than stand in his way."
"That’s the difference between his network and ours," he continued, locking eyes with her. "His connections know that a man like him is rare nowadays. Ours? Even if we cut one or two, we can always find replacents. That’s why he was able to hurt us so effectively—when all he should’ve done was leave a dent."
In simple terms, the Davises’ connections were dispensable. Charles’s were not—not because of numbers, but because of loyalty.
"We’ve lost," he said with a bitter laugh, shaking his head as he turned back to the window. His eyes softened, the corners of his mouth curling with sothing close to grief.
"You and I... do you rember anything we shared with Finn that didn’t involve a al?" he asked, his brows raising. "I don’t even rember what he wore at his graduation, or what awards he received. I just know he owns a lot of dals."
He shrugged weakly. "But Charles—he rembered how many tis he had to step on stage to receive awards with his children. He even rembered so of their classmates’ nas. And they still rember him."
"anwhile, here we are," he murmured. "I didn’t even know until now that we could receive awards with our kid."
Mrs. Davis just stared at her husband’s profile, taking in a side of him she had never seen before. In her eyes, he had always been composed, calculating, and cruel when necessary.
Emotions were never their operating language.
Yet here he was—muttering things she’d never imagined he’d say.
Lowering her gaze, her shoulders slumped. She let out a long, heavy sigh, then let her head fall slightly as she gave a defeated chuckle.
"This is the first I’m hearing that too," she whispered. "I didn’t know we could receive an award with Finn... Or maybe, it’s not the norm—and that stubborn man just forced his way in."
"Either way..." Mr. Davis turned to her. "We owe our son an apology. We screwed up his whole life. Let’s not screw up his wedding too."
Mrs. Davis pressed her lips into a thin line, holding his gaze. She didn’t answer.
But her deep sigh said everything.
They had screwed up.
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