Chapter 8: The Weight of the Stone
Victoria dropped her duffel bag onto the gravel, falling to her knees in the stone dust, burying her face in her hands as months of held grief and humiliation broke into raw, quiet sobs.
""Mother..."" Victoria wept, her voice trembling like a child’s in the dark. ""I lost everything. I thought I was building an empire... and all I did was hurt innocent people.""
Ellen knelt in the dust beside her daughter. She did not lecture; she did not remind her of the harsh words spoken on the rainy night in Greenwich.
She wrapped her strong, calloused arms around Victoria’s trembling shoulders, pulling her tight against her chest.
""You didn't lose everything, Victoria,"" Ellen whispered, stroking her daughter's dark hair. ""You only lost the lies. The ground is right here beneath your knees.""
Victoria looked up, her eyes wide with tearful disbelief. ""How can you forgive me after what I said to you?""
Ellen smiled—a radiant, serene smile that held the depth of the surrounding mountains.
""Because love doesn't keep a balance sheet, Victoria,"" Ellen said gently. ""Now stand up. There is work to be done, and your hands have been idle long enough.""
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Ellen reached into the wooden tool bin by the door, pulled out a pair of heavy leather work gloves, and placed them into her daughter’s hands.
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