Chapter 28 - The Day Dominic Asked for Forgiveness
Dominic’s letter arrived in July.
Unlike the first anonymous envelope beneath the garden gate, this one came through attorneys.
No surprises.
No hidden delivery.
No threat.
Vincent left it unopened for two days.
Jenna did not ask why.
On the third evening, he carried it to the back steps.
“You want me here?”
“Yes.”
He opened it.
Dominic’s handwriting had changed.
Less polished.
More crowded.
Vincent,
I have written five versions and destroyed four.
None of them made me look like a good man, so perhaps that is progress.
Vincent stopped.
Jenna said nothing.
Dominic wrote about childhood.
Their father’s expectations.
The accident.
Vincent’s pain.
The first time Dominic realized decisions could be redirected while Vincent was sick.
He described it as temporary.
Then useful.
Then deserved.
He admitted authorizing tighter garment modifications after convincing himself that Vincent’s pain made him easier to manage.
He admitted hiring Raymond to watch Arturo.
Then Jenna.
He admitted asking about Lily’s school.
That line made Vincent stop again.
His hands shook.
Jenna placed her palm over his.
He continued.
Dominic did not claim Raymond controlled him.
He wrote that Raymond encouraged resentments already present.
He confessed that seeing Vincent improve after the collar was cut had terrified him.
If Vincent became healthier, Dominic would lose authority.
So he tried to discredit Jenna.
He failed.
At the end, he wrote:
I used to believe I hated you because everything belonged to you.
The truth is uglier.
I hated that you could lose so much and still have people choose to stand beside you.
I am not asking you to visit.
I am not asking you to reduce my sentence.
I am asking one thing I have no right to ask.
Someday, if you can, remember that before I became this man, I was your brother.
I am sorry.
Vincent folded the letter.
Jenna waited.
“I don’t forgive him,” he said.
“Okay.”
“I thought I would.”
“You don’t owe a timeline.”
“I love him.”
“I know.”
“I hate him.”
“I know.”
“Those shouldn’t fit together.”
“Why not?”
He looked at her.
She shrugged gently.
“People fit contradictory things together every day.”
Vincent stared into the garden.
“Should I write back?”
“Do you want to?”
“I don’t know.”
“Then don’t today.”
Months earlier, Vincent would have demanded a decision simply to escape uncertainty.
Now he put the letter inside a drawer.
Three weeks later, he wrote four sentences.
Dominic,
I received your letter.
I believe some of what you wrote because the evidence supports it, and some because I recognize the boy you described.
I am not ready to forgive you.
I hope you use the years ahead to become someone who can live without requiring it.
Vincent
He sent it.
Nothing more.
The Raymond sentencing took place in autumn.
Evelyn attended.
Rachel attended.
Marco attended under subpoena.
Jenna remained home with Lily until Lily left for school, then joined Vincent.
Victim statements lasted hours.
Business owners.
Former employees.
Families.
Cole Mercer spoke about years spent frightening people for money.
Marco spoke about obedience.
Evelyn spoke last.
“My husband spent the end of his life believing powerful men could reach into any room and rearrange it.”
She looked at Raymond.
“You did not kill him. I will not give you that power too.”
Raymond’s expression shifted.
Evelyn continued.
“But you helped make his final years smaller.”
She looked toward Vincent.
“And you were not alone.”
Vincent lowered his head.
Evelyn finished.
“We cannot repair the dead. We can stop recruiting new victims.”
The judge imposed sentence.
Raymond would be old when he left prison.
Outside the courthouse, reporters surrounded Vincent.
“Do you feel justice was served?”
He considered the question.
“I think consequences were imposed.”
“Is that different?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
Vincent looked at Jenna.
“Justice is what people build after the courtroom empties.”
They left.
At the community kitchen that afternoon, contractors were installing ovens.
Tasha was teaching two women how to thread industrial sewing machines in the training room.
Rachel was arguing with a plumber.
Evelyn was testing cinnamon rolls.
Lily sat at a table doing homework.
Vincent stood in the doorway.
Jenna joined him.
“This what you meant?”
“What?”
“Justice after the courtroom.”
He smiled.
“I was hoping it sounded intelligent.”
“It did.”
“Good.”
Then Lily looked up.
“Vincent!”
He turned.
She waved a worksheet.
“Dad, can you help me with this?”
The room stopped for him.
Not for anyone else.
Jenna heard it too.
Lily did not.
Not yet.
She had already looked back at her homework.
Vincent’s eyes filled.
Jenna touched his back.
“Go help her.”
He crossed the room.
Lily pointed at a math problem.
“You’re crying.”
“No.”
“You absolutely are.”
May you like
He sat beside her.
“Apparently math is emotional.”
