Chapter 14 - The Apology Letter
Weeks turned into months, and I settled beautifully into my new, glamorous life.
I traveled to Paris, bought expensive art, and donated millions to charities supporting abused women.
One rainy afternoon, the concierge handed me a soaked, wrinkled envelope that had been dropped at the front desk.
I recognized David's messy, frantic handwriting immediately.
I sat in my penthouse, pouring a cup of tea, and opened the letter with complete emotional detachment.
"Mom, I am so sorry. I was blind. I was weak. Claire manipulated me," the letter began.
"I am living in my car. I have nothing left. Please, just give me one more chance to be your son."
I read the pathetic, whining words, feeling completely disgusted by his complete lack of accountability.
He didn't apologize for not defending me; he only apologized because he was currently suffering.
He blamed Claire for his own vile, disgusting actions, refusing to take responsibility for his choices.
I walked over to the fireplace, striking a long wooden match against the stone mantle.
I held the letter over the bright, crackling flames, watching the paper curl and turn to black ash.
I did not reply to his letter, nor did I send him any money to fix his ruined life.
May you like
Some bridges, once burned to the ground, can never be rebuilt, no matter how much you cry.
He chose his path the night he handed me a fifty-dollar bill and threw me into the freezing cold.
