Chapter 7 - The Letters From Graymoor
Dominic served his sentence at Graymoor Federal Correctional Institution.
Sophie wrote first.
Her letter contained three sentences and a drawing of a house with no basement.
Dear Mr. Dominic, Mommy says you are learning how to come home the right way. I am six now. I still have your watch.
He answered every week.
He never promised an early release.
He never told her prison was an adventure.
He wrote about books, responsibility, and the garden he helped maintain inside the facility.
Elena wrote less often.
Her first letter arrived six months later.
She had used the restitution money to open a small catering company with three former employees from the estate.
She named it Three Kisses.
Dominic smiled for the first time in weeks.
Claire moved to Washington and founded an organization helping families recover assets stolen through coercive trusts.
She sent Dominic a final letter ending their engagement formally.
We were both raised to believe marriage could be used as a shield. I hope one day we each build something that does not require one.
Dominic signed the papers.
He wished her peace.
Years passed.
Sophie’s handwriting changed.
Her drawings became essays.
She wrote about school, Elena’s business, and the day she finally entered a basement without crying.
Dominic never asked Elena to wait for him.
He did not believe love should become another sentence.
When he was released after six years, no black Escalade waited outside Graymoor.
No armed men stood beneath umbrellas.
A small blue sedan waited near the visitor lot.
Sophie jumped out before Elena stopped the car.
She was eleven now.
She wore shoes.
Dominic noticed that first.
She ran toward him and wrapped both arms around his waist.
“You took forever.”
He laughed softly.
“Federal schedules are strict.”
Elena approached more slowly.
She looked older.
Stronger.
Free in a way she had never appeared inside the Vale mansion.
Dominic did not reach for her.
“Hello, Elena.”
“Hello, Dominic.”
Sophie took one of their hands in each of hers.
“Can we go home now?”
Dominic looked toward Elena.
She held his gaze.
“We can start by having lunch.”
It was not a promise.
May you like
It was better.
It was a choice.
