Chapter 14 - THE LETTER EDWARD FINALLY ANSWEREDTen years after the foyer attack, Victoria was released.
Edward knew the date.
He did nothing.
Three months later, a letter arrived.
Handwritten.
No attorney.
No request for money.
Edward,
I won't ask to see you.
Good beginning.
Victoria wrote that she worked at a nonprofit bookkeeping program helping women rebuild financial histories after incarceration.
The irony was not lost on her.
She described no dramatic transformation.
Only therapy.
Accountability classes.
Restitution.
Years.
Then she wrote:
For a long time I wanted you to understand why I became what I became because I thought understanding would reduce my guilt.
Now I know explanation belongs to me. Responsibility belongs to me too.
Edward read slowly.
Florence did not cause my violence by giving away money.
Your father did not cause it by humiliating me years earlier.
You did not cause it by loving your mother.
I did it.
Edward closed his eyes.
That was the sentence he had needed once.
He no longer needed it now.
Interesting.
Victoria continued.
I hope Haven is doing well. I saw a photograph online. I almost laughed when I saw the foyer. Your mother won.
Edward frowned.
Won.
He disliked the word.
Florence had not fought Victoria for the mansion.
She had already chosen what the mansion would become.
Still, he understood Victoria meant something else.
Control had failed.
He finished the letter.
No request.
At the bottom:
I am sorry. You owe me nothing.
Edward left it on his desk for a month.
Then answered.
Victoria,
I believe your apology is sincere.
He stopped.
Did he?
Yes.
Probably.
Enough.
I also believe sincerity does not erase what happened.
Florence would not have described Haven as winning. She would have described it as finally making the house useful.
He smiled.
Then:
I hope your life becomes useful too, in whatever form you choose.
He signed:
Edward.
No “love.”
No “forgive.”
No opening of old doors.
He mailed it.
Grace knew.
No jealousy.
No drama.
“What do you feel?” she asked.
Edward considered.
“Finished.”
Not closure.
He had stopped liking that word.
Stories did not close neatly.
Finished in the sense that Victoria no longer occupied a living role in his life.
Her chapter existed.
Important.
Painful.
Not current.
Grace took his hand.
They walked to dinner.
Simple.
May you like
Edward had once believed freedom would feel like triumph.
It felt more like not checking the mailbox afterward.
