Chapter 15 - The Invitation
December arrived with a biting frost and festive holiday lights stringing across Regent Street. London transformed into a winter wonderland, and the children’s excitement for their first traditional British Christmas was infectious. We spent our weekends picking out ornaments, baking shortbread, and exploring the holiday markets.
One afternoon, a certified letter arrived at the townhouse. It wasn't from Marcus, nor was it from any court in New York. It was handwritten, penned on cheap, lined paper.
I recognized Eleanor’s cramped, jagged handwriting immediately.
I carried the letter to the kitchen island, pouring a cup of hot tea before breaking the seal.
"Sarah," the letter began, lacking its usual haughty tone. "I am writing this from a small apartment in Yonkers where I am currently staying with Brittany. Bradley is awaiting trial on Rikers Island, and our assets have all been seized by the federal government. We have nothing left. I know I was never kind to you, and I supported Bradley in ways I now deeply regret. But you are the mother of my grandchildren. If there is any mercy in your heart, please allow Connor and Madison to call or send a holiday card to their grandmother. We are entirely alone."
May you like
I stared at the paper for a long time. There was no surge of anger, no desire to retaliate or send a scathing reply. Just a quiet, profound sadness for a woman who had spent her entire life worshipping status and wealth, only to find herself completely abandoned by the very son she had spoiled.
I folded the letter neatly and placed it in a drawer. I didn't hate Eleanor, but I also wouldn't invite toxicity back into the sanctuary we had fought so hard to build. Some bridges were meant to stay burned so you could never walk backward.
