Chapter 7 - The Final Audit
Six months later, I received a letter from a federal prison. It was from Cordelia.
I almost threw it away, but my curiosity—the forensic accountant in me—got the better of me. I opened it.
Elena, The prison walls are gray. They look like the walls of the house you grew up in. I find myself wondering if you ever think of us. Julian is here, in the ward. He doesn't remember who I am anymore. The crash did something to his mind. I wanted you to know that the pink sweater… we stole it because we were scared. We were poor, and the clinic told us you were an orphan. We thought we were saving you from a life of state care. But we became the very thing we were trying to avoid. I don't expect forgiveness. I just wanted to write it down.
I held the letter in my hand. I thought about the girl who bought supermarket gift cards. I thought about the girl who was told she was expendable.
May you like
I took the letter to the shredder. I didn't respond. Forgiveness was a transaction I wasn't willing to make, because it required a payment from someone who had nothing left to give.
I walked to the window of the Sterling Tower. Below, the city of Detroit stretched out—the place where I was born, the place where I was broken, and the place where I had become whole.
