Chapter 18 - A Letter from the Past
A few days after the birthday celebration, I was sitting in my home office at the estate, reviewing architectural blueprints for our new pediatric research center in Boston. Mrs. Higgins knocked gently on the oak door, walking in with the morning stack of correspondence.
"Most of these are donation receipts and thank-you notes from the gala, Miss Elena," Mrs. Higgins said, setting the silver tray on my desk. "But... there was one letter that arrived through the general prison mail system. Security screened it already. No threats detected."
She handed me a simple, white legal envelope stamped with the return address of the Federal Correctional Institution in Allenwood, Pennsylvania. The handwriting was unmistakable. It was Marcus.
I stared at his name for a long moment. A year ago, the sight of his handwriting on a legal folder had nearly broken my heart and ended my world. Now, it just looked like scraggly ink on cheap paper.
I slid my letter opener under the flap and unfolded the single sheet of lined paper inside.
“Elena, I don't know if you will ever read this. I spend twenty-two hours a day in a concrete cell, and every single second, I think about the moment I walked out of that hospital room. I saw the news about the twins' birthday celebration on the dayroom television. They look so much like you. I know I don't deserve your forgiveness, and I know I will never be their father. I just wanted you to know that you were right. I was the one who was broken. I threw away the only real thing I ever had for an illusion that destroyed me. Marcus.”
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I didn't cry. I didn't feel a surge of triumph, nor did I feel an ounce of regret. His words were the final, pathetic gasp of a ghost from a life I had completely outgrown.
I took the letter, walked over to the stone fireplace in the corner of my office, and struck a match. I held the corner of the paper until the flame caught, watching Marcus’s final words turn to ash and drift up the chimney, gone forever.
