The night after the meeting at the Hopkins estate was restless for Sanchez. Sleep evaded him as memories of Susan replayed in his mind like an unending loop. He had promised himself that he wouldn't let her slip away again, but every interaction seemed to push her further out of reach.
By morning, his resolve was firm. If Susan wasn't going to listen to his words, then he would show her the truth.
Sanchez picked up the phone and made a call to his private investigator, a man he had hired years ago to uncover the shadowy figures who had moved against his family after the crash.
"Do you have everything?" Sanchez asked, his voice steady.
"Everything," came the reply. "The files are ready. Are you sure you want to share this?"
"Yes. I need her to know why I left."
---
Susan sat in her home office, poring over spreadsheets and preparing for another meeting. The calm of the morning was shattered by the sound of her doorbell. When she opened the door, she found Sanchez standing there, a leather folder in hand.
"What are you doing here?" she asked, her tone sharp.
"I need you to see something," he said, holding out the folder.
"I'm not interested—"
"Please, Susan. Just this once. If you don't care after this, I'll leave you alone."
The sincerity in his voice made her pause. Against her better judgment, she stepped aside and let him in.
They sat in the living room, the folder between them. Susan hesitated before opening it, glancing at Sanchez with a mixture of suspicion and curiosity.
Inside were documents—photographs, letters, and financial records. As she flipped through them, the pieces of a puzzle she hadn't realized existed began to fall into place.
"This… This is why you left?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Sanchez nodded. "After the accident, my family's competitors saw an opportunity to dismantle Cruz Oil. They launched lawsuits, spread false rumors, and even sent threats. I couldn't protect myself, let alone you or your family, from what was happening. So I made the hardest decision of my life—I cut ties with everyone I cared about."
Susan stared at the papers, her emotions a storm of disbelief and anger. "And you couldn't tell me this before? Do you know how much it hurt to think you abandoned me without a reason?"
"I wanted to, Susan," he said, his voice cracking. "But every time I thought about contacting you, I stopped myself. I thought you'd be safer without me."
"That wasn't your decision to make!" she snapped, slamming the folder shut.
Sanchez flinched but didn't argue. "You're right. It wasn't. But I need you to understand—I never stopped caring about you. Not for a second."
Susan looked away, her thoughts racing. The evidence in front of her explained so much, but it didn't erase the pain of those lost years.
"I don't know if I can forgive you, Sanchez," she said finally.
"I'm not asking for forgiveness," he replied. "I'm asking for a chance to make things right."
The vulnerability in his voice caught her off guard. For the first time in years, she saw a glimpse of the boy she had once loved. But whether that was enough to mend what had been broken, she wasn't sure.
As Sanchez stood to leave, he turned back to her. "Take all the time you need. But I'm not giving up on us, Susan. Not now, not ever."
When the door closed behind him, Susan was left alone with the folder in her lap and the weight of her emotions pressing down on her.
For the first time, she allowed herself to wonder: Was it possible to heal a fractured heart, or was some damage beyond repair?