Chapter 9 - The Ghost of the Past
Two years passed. My new firm, The Phoenix Legal Alliance, had become one of the most successful advocacy groups in the state. We had helped dozens of survivors escape their abusers, secure their assets, and find justice in the courtroom.
One afternoon, my secretary buzzed my desk.
"Clara, there’s a package for you. It was delivered from the state penitentiary."
My heart gave a slight thud, but I remained calm. I opened the box. Inside was a letter from Daniel.
“Clara,” the handwriting was shaky, a far cry from his once-perfect calligraphy. “I am dying of a terminal heart condition. The doctors say I have less than three months. I don’t expect you to forgive me, but please, I beg of you, come see me one last time. I need to tell you the truth about why I did what I did.”
I stared at the letter. Part of me wanted to throw it in the trash. But another part of me, the attorney who always demanded closure, knew I needed to close this chapter permanently.
The next day, I sat behind the bulletproof glass of the prison visitation room.
Daniel was wheeled in. He looked incredibly frail, his hair completely white, his skin translucent.
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"Thank you for coming, Clara," he whispered, his voice raspy.
"You have five minutes, Daniel," I said coldly. "Make it count."
