Chapter 8 - Ghosts of the Past
A year after the airport incident, I received an unexpected letter in the mail.
It bore the return address of the Federal Correctional Institution in Seagoville, Texas.
I sat in my spacious, light-filled office at Vance Capital and opened the envelope. Inside was a single page of lined paper, written in Jack’s familiar, hurried handwriting.
Megan,
I don't expect you to forgive me. I know I destroyed everything good in my life because of vanity, greed, and stupidity.
Sitting in this cell every day, I think about the morning at DFW Airport. I thought I was so clever. I thought I had everything under control. I had no idea that while I was playing games, you held the keys to my entire existence.
Carol is living in a small rented apartment in Oklahoma, working as a retail cashier. Ashley is struggling to pay her debt. None of us have spoken to Chloe since the trial. The family I tried to impress ended up turning on each other the moment the money vanished.
You were the only real thing in my life, Megan. And I was too blind to see it.
I’m serving my time. My medical license is permanently gone. When I get out, I will have nothing.
I just wanted to write this to say... you were right. About everything.
Jack.
I read the letter twice.
May you like
There was a time when reading these words would have caused me pain, or perhaps a toxic sense of triumph. But as I held the paper, I felt neither. Jack Walker was no longer my husband, my enemy, or my burden. He was simply a ghost from a past life—a man who had traded gold for copper and was now forced to live with his choice.
I quietly folded the letter, placed it in the trash bin, and pushed my chair back from the desk.
