Chapter 9 - The Final Letter
A year after Marcus’s incarceration, a letter arrived at our home address. It bore the return stamp of the Federal Correctional Institution in Pennsylvania.
Ethan brought it to my study. "It's from Marcus. Do you want me to throw it away?"
I looked at the white envelope for a long moment. "No. Give it to me."
I opened the letter and read the handwritten lines inside:
Eleanor,
I am writing this from a cell that measures eight by ten feet. Every day, I look at the concrete wall and think about the life I destroyed—not just yours, but my own.
I thought power was about making people fear you. I thought success was about showing off. I was wrong. Watching you on the news last week, receiving the National Medical Innovation Award alongside your family, I finally understood what you meant that night.
You didn't ruin me. I ruined myself the day I decided that human beings were disposable.
I don't expect your forgiveness. I don't deserve it. But I wanted you to know that the woman I called 'useless' turned out to be the only real thing I ever encountered in my life.
Marcus.
I read the letter slowly, then folded it neatly back into its envelope.
May you like
I didn't feel triumph, nor did I feel lingering anger. I simply felt... closure.
I walked over to the fireplace, tossed the letter into the soft, flickering flames, and watched it turn into ashes, disappearing up the chimney into the cool evening air.
