On the third day after Richard was sent away, I found a letter he had written to Larissa. It was short, only a few words.
[Larissa, I feel so bad.]
After that, during the four years Richard was supposed to spend in prison, he had traveled the world. So tell me, did my mother, who had been run over again and again by his car and died, deserve this?
I slammed my fist against the wall until blood came, leaving a dark red handprint. My hands were shaking as I saved the evidence to my drive, then I logged out.
A new message appeared on my phone from an address I did not know. Every house listed there was worth hundreds of billions. I gave a bitter smile and felt the small box in my pocket.
I eventually thought to myself, ‘Larissa, I don’t want you anymore.’
Then, a voice I knew well cut through my thoughts.
“What don’t you want?”
Only then did I realize I had said the words out loud. I couldn’t hide the tears. So, I turned and held Larissa without thinking.
“Larissa, I miss my mom.”
Her body tensed for a second, then relaxed. She wiped my cheeks with a kiss. Her eyes were soft and full of the same love I had known.
“For the rest of your life, you have me.”
“You?” I asked.
“Larissa, are you really with me in your heart?”
I could sense the air between us had changed today.
“What’s wrong? Who made you angry?” she asked, worried.
“Larissa, are you hiding something from me?”
Her clear eyes met mine and she laughed, a little too quickly.
“How would I dare? What nonsense did you see online this time?”
“Really?” I asked as I stepped away from her.
“Then I want to go to the Federal Correctional Institution in Otisville to see Richard.”
The room went cold.
Her voice sounded rough as she asked, “What are you saying? Why would you go there when everything is fine-”
Before she could finish, I cut her off.
“Richard isn’t in prison, is he?”
“He’s only been inside for three days over the past four years, isn’t that right?”
“Larissa, tell me!” I shouted.
My eyes burned and my nails buried into my palm until blood showed. Larissa grabbed my hands and pulled them away from my face, trying to stop me from hurting myself.
“Okay, Ajax, listen. I can explain,” she spoke quickly, but her phone then vibrated as soon as she began.
Three short rings and one long. It was her emergency ringtone. Larissa had told me once that she and her assistant used that pattern for urgent night calls. I had trusted her for four years without ever checking.
Today, I looked at it. But she was faster. She didn’t answer the call, however. Instead, she hung up.
“Ajax, I have to handle some business. I’ll explain when I get back.”
She was trying to calm me, to find words. I said ‘OK’ even though I did not mean to be calm.
Blood from my nails stained the sheets, but Larissa didn’t even look. She used to change the sheets herself. Instead, she told the servants to clean and hurried to put on her shoes.
Her phone rang again. This time, I wasn’t beside her. She answered at once. The soft voice she used sounded real.
“I didn’t mean to hang up on you … Be good, don’t cause trouble.”
“What do you want to eat? Okay, I’ll be there. I’ll stand in line and buy it for you.”
“I’ll only be with you tonight. Don’t cry.”
I knew she would not come back tonight. And I knew what I had said was true in one way. I would find Richard. I wanted him dead.
Not long after that, I watched the CCTV footage. On that footage, I saw how Miss Larissa Hamilton, one of the most powerful businesswomen in New York, standing in line at a street food stall.
