Chapter 17 - Shadows in the Mirror
That evening, I returned to the Goethe Street townhouse long after sunset.
The city lights twinkled across Lake Michigan, casting a warm, amber glow across the penthouse living room. My mother was fast asleep upstairs, and the night nurse had already settled Julian into his crib for the night.
I poured myself a single finger of neat bourbon—the exact brand Vincent used to drink, though I never touched it back then. I swirled the amber liquid in the crystal glass, watching the light refract through the facets.
I walked over to the floor-to-ceiling mirror in my master suite, looking at my reflection.
The pale, exhausted woman in the hospital gown—the one who lay bleeding on an operating table while her husband chased ghosts—was gone. In her place stood a woman draped in power, wealth, and absolute control.
I didn't feel broken. I didn't feel bitter.
I felt complete.
A soft knock echoed at the bedroom door.
"Come in," I said without turning around.
My head of security stepped inside, holding a secure encrypted tablet. "Mrs. Carter, we just received an intercepted communication from the federal penitentiary in Marion."
I turned slowly, swirling the bourbon in my glass. "Oh? Did our guest have something to say?"
"Not in words, ma'am," the guard replied, his expression grave. "Vincent Carter refused his meals for five days straight. The prison medical unit just reported that he suffered a massive stress-induced cardiac arrest this afternoon. He didn't make it."
The room grew very still.
I stared at the guard for a long, unblinking moment. No gasp escaped my lips. No sudden wave of grief or sorrow washed over my chest. The man who had abandoned me in my darkest hour, who had broken every vow and traded his family for a ghost from his past, was finally gone.
"Is the death certificate verified?" I asked calmly.
May you like
"Yes, ma'am. The federal coroner confirmed it an hour ago."
"Arrange for a pauper's burial," I said quietly, taking a slow sip of the bourbon. "He wanted to leave a legacy in this city. Let history remember him as an empty grave."
