Chapter 8 - The Woman Who Thought She Had WonBrielle eventually left.
She couldn't accept the truth.
Marcus didn't chase her.
He signed the divorce papers quietly.
His mother moved away.
The Whitfield estate changed too.
Marcus removed the photographs that had been displayed like trophies.
Then he added five new ones.
One of all five children.
One of Sawyer.
One of Clara.
One of Noah.
One of Elise.
One of Henry.
And beside the fireplace, he placed a photograph of his father.
Colonel Everett Whitfield.
Under it was a small plaque.
He knew before we did.
One afternoon, I stood beside Marcus looking at it.
“He would have liked this.”
Marcus nodded.
“I wish he were here.”
“So do I.”
He looked at me.
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For bringing them.”
I shook my head.
“They were never yours to lose.”
He looked away.
“I know.”
Then he asked:
“Do you hate me?”
I thought about it.
“No.”
His eyes lifted.
“I don't hate you.”
“What do you feel?”
I looked at the children playing outside.
“Nothing that matters anymore.”
He smiled sadly.
“That's probably worse.”
“No.”
May you like
I smiled.
“It's freedom.”
