Chapter 11 - Shadows in the Rearview MirrorSpring arrived with a sudden explosion of green across Chicago, washing away the bitter memories of the winter snow.
Sophie had finished her school year with flying colors, earning straight A's and a special certificate in art class. To celebrate, we packed our bags, loaded Buster into the backseat of our reliable sedan, and took a weekend trip out to Lake Geneva—a place I hadn't visited since I was a teenager.
The air was crisp and smelled of pine and fresh water. We rented a cozy cabin near the shoreline, far away from the flashing lights of downtown Chicago, the towering skyscrapers, and the suffocating pressure of elite society.
On Saturday afternoon, Sophie and I walked along the pebbled beach, skipping flat stones across the glass-like surface of the lake while Buster chased the ripples along the shore.
"Mommy, look! A duck!" Sophie squealed, pointing excitedly toward a mallard gliding gracefully across the water.
I laughed, pulling out my phone to snap a photo of her radiant, smiling face against the backdrop of the sparkling blue lake. As I framed the shot, a sudden memory flashed through my mind—the glittering crystal chandeliers of the Whitmore Hotel, the smell of champagne and roasted herb chicken, the terrifying sound of wood hitting bone, and the warm blood spreading across an engraved oak menu board.
It felt like a lifetime ago. Another world. Another person entirely.
"Evelyn?"
I lowered my phone, turning around. Standing a few yards away near the edge of the tree line was a familiar face.
It was Marcus, my father’s former senior associate. He looked older, wearing a casual jacket and holding a thermos, looking somewhat surprised to run into me out here in the middle of nowhere.
"Marcus," I greeted neutrally, stepping slightly in front of Sophie to shield her from any unwanted reminders of the past.
Marcus raised his hands defensively, offering a polite, weary smile. "Relax, Evelyn. I’m not here on business. I’m just up here for a weekend fishing trip by myself. I didn't expect to see you."
"We're just vacationing," I replied shortly.
Marcus glanced down at Sophie, who gave him a cautious, polite wave before returning to her rock-hunting. He looked back at me, a mixture of respect and lingering guilt in his eyes.
"I heard about the firm's final liquidation hearing last week," Marcus said quietly, stuffing his hands into his coat pockets. "Arthur’s health has deteriorated significantly. He’s in a memory care facility now. Your mother visits him every day, but... he doesn't always remember who she is."
I felt a brief, quiet pang of sorrow—not for the powerful man who had belittled me my entire life, but for the fragile human being he had ultimately become. But the sorrow faded almost as quickly as it came, replaced by the profound peace of acceptance.
"I hope they find some peace, Marcus," I said honestly. "Truly."
Marcus nodded slowly. "And Preston?" I asked, before I could stop myself.
Marcus grimaced. "Max security down state. He tried to appeal his sentence last month based on 'diminished capacity' during the wedding incident. The appellate judge threw it out in five minutes. Between the 4K hotel footage, the public outcry, and his own recorded jailhouse tampering calls, he's got at least another seven years before he's even eligible for a parole hearing."
I exhaled a breath I didn't realize I was holding. Seven years. By the time Preston ever stepped foot outside prison walls, Sophie would be a teenager, and I would have built an entire life completely untouched by his shadow.
"Thank you for telling me, Marcus," I said, offering a genuine, small smile. "Have a good weekend of fishing."
May you like
"You too, Evelyn," he replied, tipping an imaginary hat before turning and walking away down the winding forest path.
I watched him go, feeling the last remaining invisible tether to my family snap and dissolve into the spring breeze.
