Chapter 9 - The Final Ledger
A week before our wedding, Samuel Reid requested a brief meeting with me at my new home.
We sat on the sunlit terrace of The House of Glass, drinking fresh coffee while watching the autumn leaves fall gracefully onto the lawn.
Samuel placed a thin manila envelope on the table.
“What’s this, Samuel?” I asked, leaning forward.
“A final update from Florence Federal Penitentiary,” Samuel replied calmly. “David Miller’s legal team submitted a formal request for medical parole last month, citing severe psychological distress and deteriorating health.”
I picked up the file, opening it calmly.
The prison medical report showed that David was living in permanent high-security isolation. The warden had denied his parole request instantly, noting that the inmate showed zero remorse and posed a continued danger to society.
His days were spent in a tiny, windowless concrete cell, eating standardized prison rations, surrounded by cold steel and gray walls. The man who had tried to steal billions to live in a mansion was now confined to an eight-by-ten box for the next forty-six years.
“Should I file a response?” Samuel asked.
I closed the file, setting it down on the table.
“No,” I said gently, looking out over the sunlit lake. “He doesn't need a response from me. He’s already living in the prison he built for himself. He traded his soul for money he never got to keep, and now he has nothing but time to think about it.”
Samuel smiled, taking a sip of his coffee. “You’re right, Elena. He is completely irrelevant now.”
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I picked up the file and casually dropped it into the small table top fire pit resting on the terrace. The paper caught fire instantly, curling into black ash, blowing away into the morning wind.
The final trace of David Miller’s existence in my life burned away to nothing.
