“What happens now?” Andrew asked. Sarah looked at him, and for the first time, she saw the resemblance to his father—not in his character, but in the privilege he had enjoyed without ever questioning where it came from.
“I don’t know, Andrew. I really don’t. But I finally understand why my dad used to sit in the dark every night looking at my mom’s picture. I thought he was just lonely. He was waiting for justice.” She took off her veil and set it on the table.
“I need some air.” Six months later, Richard took a plea deal. He received a suspended sentence and heavy probation due to his age and lack of a prior record, but the financial restitution wiped him out. He had to sell the firm and most of their properties to pay back what was owed, plus interest and penalties.
Bill didn’t keep a dime of the settlement. He directed his entire share to the local hospice center—the same one where Sarah’s mother had spent her final days. Sarah and Andrew stayed together, but the foundation of their world had cracked. They moved to a different state, away from the country clubs and the family “legacy.”
One evening, Sarah sat on the porch of her father’s small house. “Dad, do you feel better now that it’s over?” Bill looked out at the yard for a long time.
“No, honey,” he said finally. “Revenge doesn’t heal anything. It just closes a door. The pain is still there. It always will be.” He paused, then added quietly, “But the door is closed. And that’s enough for me.”
Comments are closed.