loving you was a mistake

"I know why you hate me," Jackson finally said. "I wronged your mother. That woman was better than most people I called family. But I was too proud to admit I made a mistake."

"You didn't just make a mistake," Mark said, voice sharp. "You spat on her grave when you denied me. You let me starve while your golden grandson got horses for Christmas."

"Jeffery earned his place," Jackson said firmly. "So did I," Mark snapped. "I bled for mine." Jackson looked at him then. For the first time, without pride. Just raw, unhidden regret. "I heard about your company. The shipping company , the tech empire… you did good, boy. You became something."

Mark swallowed thickly.

"I never needed your approval," he said hoarsely. "But I did need a grandfather. Tiwa needed family. And you weren't there." "I know," Jackson rasped. "I see that now."

Aurora stepped in, placing a hand on Mark's back. "Sometimes, forgiveness isn't about them deserving it. It's about freeing ourselves from what they did." Jackson looked at her, eyes moist but too proud to cry. "You picked a good one, boy."

Mark finally sat back, the fight slowly draining from his shoulders. "I didn't come to be your grandson. I came to close a chapter."Jackson gave a single nod. "Then let's close it well."

They stayed the night. Aurora spent time walking through the stables, Jackson showing her old photographs and telling her about Mark's late grandmother.

The crisp Washington morning air blew softly through the tall trees surrounding the Wilson Ranch, whistling like an old friend trying to hum a forgotten song.

Mark stood outside alone, leaning against the wooden fence that bordered the stables. His breath came out in slow puffs, eyes scanning the land that should've felt like home, but never had. And yet, for the first time in years, there was no rage sitting on his chest. Only a quiet ache… and maybe, peace.

Behind him, footsteps approached. You always were stubborn," Jackson's voice was low, not as firm as it used to be. "I guess that didn't die out with your mother." Mark didn't respond at first.

"She was too good for this place," Mark finally said. "Too good for how you treated her. "I know," Jackson admitted, his hands trembling as he gripped the fence. "Every night, I sit and wonder what it would've been like if I'd just… welcomed you in. I was a coward. I hid behind tradition and pride because I thought loving you would mean accepting that I failed."

Mark's throat tightened.

"You didn't just fail me," he said. "You failed Tiwa. She cried on Christmas because we had nothing. I worked three jobs just to keep her fed while your other grandchildren got to travel the world in private jets."

"I failed all of you," Jackson whispered.

Silence hung heavy between them. Then Mark turned to look at him not the proud Jackson Wilson, but the older man whose eyes now carried the burden of time and loss.

"I'm not here for apologies," Mark said. "And I'm not looking for your approval anymore. But I needed to see you. I needed to hear it."

Jackson's hand reached out, tentative.

"I may not deserve it… but if you ever decide to forgive me, I'll try to be better. I have little time left, but I'd spend it making it right."

Mark stared at the hand, heart pounding, before finally slowly reaching forward to grasp it. Firm. Brief. But everything. Aurora watched from the porch, her heart swelling. She didn't interrupt, just smiled through misty eyes.

Later that afternoon, bags packed and the sun beginning to dip, Aurora said goodbye to Jackson with a warm hug. "Thank you for letting us stay, sir. "Call me Grandpa next time," Jackson said with a rare smirk.

She chuckled softly. "Only if you call me grandchild." As they climbed into the black SUV that would take them back to the private airfield, Jackson turned to Mark once more.

"Son—"

Mark paused in the open door. "I'm proud of you. I may never say it again, but I mean it."

Mark gave a small nod. "Took you long enough."

The flight to New York was quiet, but not heavy. Aurora rested her head on Mark's shoulder, her fingers laced with his. "You did good, baby," she whispered.

"I didn't think I had it in me," he admitted. "But you… you made it possible." She looked up, kissing his jaw. "That's what wives are for. To drag you into the light even when you're convinced the dark is safer." Mark chuckled, pulling her close. "Remind me to never doubt your stubbornness again." When they landed in New York, Richard was already waiting with the convoy. As they drove through the familiar city skyline, Mark glanced at Aurora.

"Next stop?" he asked. She smiled. "Wherever you lead, Mr. Wilson." He brought her hand to his lips. "Then let's go home."