Chapter 9 - The Final Visit
One year after the trial.
The visitor’s room at the Bedford Hills Women's Correctional Facility was quiet, filled with the faint smell of industrial detergent.
Margaret sat behind a thick sheet of plexiglass, wearing a faded orange jumpsuit. Her hands were rough, her eyes devoid of their former spark of arrogance.
The door clicked open, and I walked in alone. I sat down calmly on the plastic chair across from her, picking up the black phone receiver.
Margaret slowly picked up her receiver, her hand trembling against the plastic.
"Maya..." Margaret whispered, her voice hoarse and broken. "You... you came."
"I came to deliver one thing, Margaret," I said softly, my voice steady and without anger.
I pulled a small, laminated photograph from my coat pocket and pressed it against the glass.
It was a picture of one-year-old Lily taking her very first steps on the green grass of our new home, holding Ethan’s hand, laughing with pure, radiant joy.
Margaret stared at the photo of her granddaughter. Tears pooled in her sunken eyes, sliding down her wrinkled cheeks.
"She... she has Ethan's smile," Margaret choked out, her voice cracking with pure, agonizing regret. "Can I... will I ever get to hold her, Maya?"
"No, Margaret," I replied calmly. "You will never meet her. She will grow up knowing only kindness, peace, and love. She will never know the toxicity you brought into this world."
"Please..." Margaret wept, pressing her forehead against the cold glass. "I’m sorry... Maya, I am so sorry... I was wrong..."
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"I forgive you, Margaret," I said softly. "For my own peace, I forgive you. But forgiveness does not mean access to my family."
I hung up the receiver, stood up from the chair, and walked out of the visitor's room without looking back, leaving Margaret alone with her tears behind the heavy steel doors.
