Page 9 of Broken Destiny

I loved people.

I loved creating spaces where families could gather, laugh, and share meals.

Cement and concrete had never been part of my world.

But I loved Cole, and this company carried his name, his effort, his dreams. It was part of the legacy his family—and himself—had worked so hard to build, and walking away from it felt like walking away from him.

Sitting down in Cole’s office for the first time had been one of the hardest moments of my life. Touching the desk he had used, the chair he had sat in, even the pen he had once held in his hand, made tearsslide down my cheeks before I could stop them. Every surface in that room held traces of him.

He had left me his share of the company, but I didn’t want to simply inherit it.

I wanted to earn it.

Gaining a brother in Liam had changed my life. He welcomed me into his family. Being around him made me feel less alone. I didn’t want to disappoint him. I didn’t want to fail.

So I made a decision.

I wasn’t going to give up, no matter how difficult the journey became. I was going to do everything in my power to keep my promise to Cole.

Night after night, after the children had gone to bed, I sat at the dining table surrounded by papers, books, and notes, teaching myself everything I could about the business. My eyes burned from exhaustion, yet I kept going, driven by a determination that felt stronger than fear.

I visited construction sites the company had worked on, walking through unfinished buildings with a notebook clutched in my hand, writing down every detail I didn’t understand. I asked questions, listened carefully, and absorbed as much information as possible, determined to prove—to myself more than anyone else—that I was capable of carrying forward the life he had built.

“Mr. Liberman,” Liam had said during one of the meetings I attended as he addressed the client. “This project caters to the common man. The prices are affordable. The materials are eco-friendly. The homeowners will have choices they never imagined. Your real estate agents will be able to sell this project easily once they show customers these designs and amenities.”

As I sat there listening, watching Liam speak, I realized this wasn’t just about business for him either. He was honouring Cole too. He was protecting what his brother had created. He was building a future that would make Cole proud—from wherever he was watching.

And in that moment, I silently promised him again:I will not let your dream fade.

Confirming the deal with a handshake, I saw how passionate Liam was about his work. His energy filled the room, like a man who believed in every word he spoke.

After treating me to lunch that afternoon, he said, “Today, we will learn about construction materials,” he said, leaning forward slightly as he spread blueprints and sample sheets across the table. “There are various materials used depending on the type of building that one constructs. It’s all about being economical and sustainable.”

I nodded, absorbing every word.

Jotting down notes in my notebook, I slowly began to grasp the business I had become a part of. The unfamiliar terms that once sounded like a foreign language were beginning to make sense. Typing out proposals, standing in line for permits, preparing transmittals—each task became another brick laid in the foundation of my confidence.

Fewer and fewer mistakes appeared each week on the mock documents Liam prepared for me. Each correction felt like progress. Each lesson felt like a step forward.

I wasn’t just learning a business; I was learning a piece of Cole’s world.

And with every new concept I understood, my connection to him grew stronger, as though I were walking beside him again, tracing the path he had once built with his own hands.

Now, watching my children play in the snow outside, I wrapped both hands around a cup of hot chocolate, letting the heat seep into my palms.

Emma lay on her back in the snow, flapping her arms and legs excitedly as she made snow angels. Her laughter rang out across the yard, untouched by the sorrow that had reshaped our lives. She didn’t understand that Cole would never be coming back. Her world continued as though nothing had changed, her days filled with toys, giggles, and bedtime stories. Occasionally, she would stop what she was doing, turn toward me with wide, searching eyes. “Dada?”

The word landed like a stone dropped into still water, sending ripples through my chest.

“Dada is no more,” I would say, my throat constricting. “Dada is here,” I whispered, placing my hand gently over her chest. “He’s watching over us now.”

Lucas, however, felt his absence in a way that only someone older could understand. He had witnessed Cole’s struggle during those final months, watching the man he admired grow weaker day by day. He had helped me carry food to his bedside, his small hands steady despite the fear in his eyes. Every morning, he’d bring Emma to see him when they woke up. Every night, before going to bed, he had said goodnight to Cole. He was so mature for his age that it both filled me with pride and broke my heart at the same time. I was proud of my son—of the boy he was becoming, of the man he would one day grow into.

After dinner that evening, I sat on the couch and watched television. My eyes moved to Cole’s picture resting on the mantle.

A flashback of his funeral surfaced in my mind, and a cold shiver ran down my spine.

I had seen it before it happened… in my vision—the one I experienced in the hospital when I was fighting for my life two and a half years ago.