Page 126 of A Mistake of Worth
Henri wanted to believe him. God, he wanted to believe him so badly it hurt worse than any of his physical injuries. But experience had taught him that people’s patience had limits, that eventually everyone got tired of damaged goods.
“You say that now,” Henri whispered. “But you don’t know what it’s going to be like. Living with someone who can’t make basic decisions, who panics over simple things, who—”
“I have some idea,” Michael interrupted gently. “I’ve seen what Marc did to you. I’ve held you through nightmares these past three days. I’ve watched you dissociate when you got overwhelmed. I know this isn’t going to be easy.”
Henri’s breath hitched. “Then why?”
“Because I care for you.” Michael said it so simply, as if it were obvious. “Because you’re worth the patience it’s going to take. Because I want to be the person who helps you figure out who you are when no one’s telling you who to be.”
The words settled over Henri, warm and suffocating all at once. He didn’t know how to accept them, how to believe them, how to trust that they wouldn’t be taken back the first time he failed to be what Michael needed.
“I’ve been thinking,” Michael said carefully, “about the future. About what comes next.”
Henri’s stomach clenched with dread. Here it was. The plan. The next set of expectations. “What do you mean?”
“I want you to come back to London with me.”
Henri stared at Michael, hardly daring to hope. “You... you want me to come with you?”
“Yes.” Michael’s voice was steady, certain. “Not right away. Not until you’re ready. But when you are... I want you to come live with me. Build a life with me.”
Henri’s hands were shaking again, worse now. London. With Michael. A life that wasn’t here, wasn’t Marc, wasn’t anything he’d known before.
“But I have work,” he said, grasping for the familiar. “La Sauvegarde—”
“You could quit,” Michael said simply. “Or take a leave of absence. Whatever you need.”
The ease with which Michael suggested it made Henri’s head spin. Just quit. Just walk away from the company, the role he’d perfected over years, the one thing he knew he was genuinely good at.
“I don’t understand.” Henri searched Michael’s face for signs of pity, of obligation, of anything that would explain why Michael would want damaged goods in his life permanently. “Why would you want me there? I’m... I’m a mess.”
Michael’s eyes were bright with emotion. “Because when I imagine my future, you’re in it. Because those three weeks in London with you were the happiest I’ve been in years. Because I want to wake up next to you every morning and show you what it’s like to be loved without conditions.”
Henri’s throat was too tight to speak. Michael loved him. Michael wanted him. Not as property, not as an obligation, but as... what? A partner? An equal?
It felt impossible. It felt like a dream that would shatter the moment he reached for it.
“I’ve also been thinking,” Michael continued, his voice more cautious now, “about MapricX. We’re growing faster than we expected, and we need someone who can handle the financial side with real expertise. Someone with your skills.”
Henri frowned, trying to shift gears. “You want me to work for you?”
“Not for me. With me.” Michael squeezed his hand. “As CFO, if you wanted. But that’s something we could explore later, if you’re interested. No pressure. I just wanted you to know the possibility exists. That you have options beyond La Sauvegarde if you want them.”
CFO. Chief Financial Officer. Henri had been La Sauvegarde’s CFO for years, and he was good at it. He knew he was good at it. The numbers made sense to him in a way people never had. But La Sauvegarde was family, was Gabriel’s company.
This would be different. Working somewhere he had no safety net, no family connection to fall back on if he failed. What if he wasn’t actually good at his job? What if Gabriel had just been kind all these years, letting Henri pretend at competence because he felt guilty about what Olivier had done?
“You don’t believe me,” Michael said quietly, reading the doubt on Henri’s face.
“I don’t know what to believe.” Henri’s voice came out small. “Maybe I’m only good at my job because Gabriel made allowances for me. Maybe I’m not actually skilled, just... adequately functional.”
“That’s Marc talking,” Michael said, and there was steel in his voice now. “Marc, who spent twenty years convincing you that everything good about you was his creation, that you had no value outside of what he gave you. You are brilliant, Henri. I’ve seen your work. I’ve seen how you handle complex financial structures. That’s not Gabriel being kind. That’s you being genuinely talented.”
“You don’t have to decide anything now,” Michael said, sensing Henri’s overwhelm. “I just wanted you to know that you have options. That your life doesn’t have to look like it did before. You get to choose.”
Options. Choices. Freedom.
The words felt foreign, like a language Henri had never quite learned to speak. How did people make choices when every decision felt weighted with the possibility of catastrophic failure?
