Chapter 9 - The Final Reckoning
A year after the infamous wedding, a small, unremarkable package arrived at my foundation's headquarters.
It was addressed to me, sent from a state correctional facility in upstate New York.
Inside was a letter written on cheap lined paper.
I sat at my mahogany desk, looking out the large window at the Manhattan skyline, and opened it.
Elena,
I don't know if you will even read this, or if you'll throw it away. You have every right to burn it.
I am writing this from a cell. Last week, the court finalized my sentence for corporate fraud, tax evasion, and perjury. I have six years to sit here and think about what I've done.
I lost everything. My firm, my money, my mother's respect, my standing in society... everything. But sitting here in the quiet, I finally realized that I didn't lose those things at your wedding. I lost them years ago, the moment I chose to break you to save my own pathetic pride.
You were the best thing that ever happened to me, Elena. You were loyal, kind, and loving. And I repaid you by making you believe you were broken, simply because I was too cowardly to face my own reality.
I saw your foundation on the news in the prison common room last night. You look radiant. Your children are beautiful. Alexander Voss is the man I should have been for you.
I am not asking for your forgiveness. I don't deserve it. I just wanted to say... you were right. Silence was your strategy. And you won.
Goodbye, Elena.
Richard Hale
I read the letter through once, slowly.
There was no sudden surge of bitterness, no burst of tears, and no lingering pain. The words were just black ink on cheap paper, written by a man who was now merely a distant, fading memory in the story of my life.
I didn't keep the letter. I didn't show it to Alexander.
May you like
I simply folded it in half, tossed it into the recycling bin beside my desk, and turned back to my computer screen to review the new clinic opening applications for our foundation.
Richard Hale was finally, completely, irrelevant.
