Chapter 9 - The Freedom of Forgiveness
Three years after the gala, I received an official notification from the State Board of Pardons and Paroles. Ethan was up for early conditional release based on good behavior and completion of an inmate rehabilitation program.
As the primary victim, I was invited to submit a written statement or appear in person at his parole hearing.
Marcus offered to write a legal objection to keep him locked up for his full term, but I asked him to drive me to the state correctional facility instead.
In the small, sterile visitor room, Ethan sat across from me behind a wooden table. He had lost weight, his posture was humble, and his hands rested quietly on the table without twitching.
"Clara," he said, his voice quiet and raspy. "You... you didn't have to come."
"I wanted to see you, Ethan," I said.
He looked down at his hands. "I've spent every single day in here thinking about what I did. Not just at the gala... but on that road five years ago. I was a coward. I let Dad turn me into a monster because I was too weak to take responsibility for my own actions."
He looked up at me, tears filling his eyes. "I don't expect you to forgive me. I don't deserve it. If you want me to serve the rest of my time, I'll accept it."
I looked at my brother—not the spoiled heir who had thrown me into an ice sculpture, but a man who had finally been forced to confront his own shadows.
"I already forgave you, Ethan," I said gently. "Not for your sake, but for mine. Carrying hatred for you was like holding a hot coal hoping you would burn."
I signed the parole clearance document sitting on the table and slid it across to the guard.
May you like
"I won't oppose your release," I told him. "But you won't be coming back to Sterling Group. You need to build a life of your own, from the ground up, with your own hands."
Ethan wiped his eyes, his shoulders shaking as he nodded repeatedly. "Thank you, Clara... thank you."
