Chapter 10 - The Last LaughFar away from the glittering lights of downtown Chicago, inside the sterile, fluorescent-lit visitor’s room of a federal correctional facility, Jonathan Whitmore sat in a coarse orange jumpsuit. His hair was unstyled, his face aged by stress and deep regret.
A guard slid a small, plain white envelope across the metal table.
"Mail call, Whitmore," the guard muttered.
Jonathan stared at the envelope. There was no return address. His heart hammered against his ribs as he tore it open with trembling fingers, half-hoping against hope for a miracle, or perhaps just a final word from the world he had lost.
Inside was a single photograph.
May you like
It showed Claire standing radiant and smiling on the terrace of The Horizon Center, holding a healthy baby girl in her arms, with the Chicago skyline glowing brilliantly behind them. On the back of the photo, written in Claire’s familiar, precise handwriting, were four simple words:
Thank you for the foundation.
