Chapter 15 - The Ghost of the PastSix months after the wedding that stopped Chicago, the autumn chill gave way to the sharp, sparkling frost of early winter.
I had taken Chloe out for a walk along the Magnificent Mile, bundled tightly in a cashmere pram while the city twinkled with the early installation of holiday lights. The air was crisp and biting, smelling of roasted chestnuts and pine needles.
As I passed by the grand entrance of the Drake Hotel—the very ballroom where my life had nearly been shattered—I didn't feel a single flicker of anxiety or pain. I simply looked at the towering mahogany doors, remembered the sound of my boots clicking against the floor, and felt a quiet, profound sense of triumph.
My phone vibrated in the pocket of my wool coat.
I pulled it out, expecting an email from my accounting team or a message from Sarah regarding an upcoming client meeting.
Instead, it was an automated notification from the federal prison inmate tracking system—a service I had requested specifically so I would always know the physical status of my ex-husband.
Inmate #84920-424 (Brooks, Ryan J.) has been permanently transferred to the United States Penitentiary, Marion—Medium Security Facility.
A maximum-security federal facility in Southern Illinois. Far away from Chicago. Far away from my life, my daughter, and my peace.
I tapped the screen, dismissing the notification into the digital void, and pocketed the phone.
May you like
A tiny hand reached up from the pram, grasping instinctively at my glove. I looked down into Chloe’s bright, curious eyes, smiling warmly as I adjusted her pink woolen cap.
“Let’s go home, sweetheart,” I whispered.
