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    The first thing I tasted was blood. The second was betrayal. It sat warm and metallic at the back of my throat while the bedroom carpet scraped the skin along my arm and the ceiling light hummed above me with the lazy indifference of a machine

    Kelly WhitewoodBy 5 Mins Read
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    Epilogue: The Apology They Asked For

    “What is that?” Marjorie demanded.

    Her voice had changed. The sharpness was still there, but now it carried fear.

    I sat down, folded my napkin neatly in my lap, and looked at them both.

    “Lunch,” I said. “And the apology you asked for.”

    Adrian broke the seal.

    As he read, the color drained from his face. Page by page, his control slipped away. The theft. The statements. The timeline. The instructions from my attorney. The report I was ready to file.

    Marjorie leaned toward him, whispering his name, but Adrian did not answer.

    For once, the silence belonged to me.

    I stood, picked up my purse, and walked toward the front door.

    Behind me, Adrian finally said my name.

    I did not turn around.

    The reckoning had arrived, but I no longer needed to stay and watch it happen.

    I stepped outside into the sunlight and closed the door on both of them.

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