Chapter 34
Chapter 34: The Prison Letter v2
Back in Virginia, the legal machinery moved swiftly. Sabrina’s extradition was finalized, and because she had fled the country while on active felony probation, the judge showed absolutely no mercy. She was sentenced to three solid years in a state correctional facility, with no possibility of early parole.
Three months into her sentence, a new letter arrived at my house. This time, the handwriting was chaotic, sharp, and frantic. It was from Sabrina.
Claire, I hope you're happy. I'm in a maximum-security block. The women here are real criminals. They stole my shoes on the first day. The guards don't care. Dad is dying in his facility, and Mom is buried in a pauper's grave because of you. Carter won't even accept my collect calls from the prison phone. He sent me a letter telling me to never contact him again. You think you won, but you're alone, Claire. You have no family left. When you die, nobody will remember your corporate job or your bank accounts. You're an empty, bitter woman.
May you like
I read the letter twice. A year ago, her words might have stung. But now, looking around my bright, beautiful home, filled with photos of Anna’s bright future and the genuine friends I had made in my corporate career, the letter felt pathetic.
I didn't burn it. I didn't save it for Marcus. I walked over to the kitchen island, picked up a black marker, and wrote one word across the front of the envelope in large, bold letters: RETURN TO SENDER. I dropped it back into the mailbox. She wanted an audience for her misery, but I was no longer available to listen.
