“Jennifer was ill for a long time. She tried all sorts of therapy, different medications. Noah was a surprise, and when he was first born, she was better. She thought babies made her happy, and it was fucking irresponsible of me, but that’s why we had Oscar and Lottie. But just after Lottie’s birth, she became very unwell again.”
What is he trying to say? I’m hearing his words but I’m not understanding.
He sees the look on my face and takes a deep breath.
“Jennifer was ill. For a long time. The things she said in her note… Ned, it wasn’t Ritchie, it was her choice. He lied to you.”
My cheeks are wet. My mind is floundering. It is exactly the kind of cruel and twisted thing Ritchie would do, and I did spend months anguishing over exactly what I had done to piss him off so much. But still. How can Morgan be so sure?
He takes my other hand. “Ned, even if I’m wrong, it is still not your fault. Ritchie murdered her, not you. You are not responsible for the actions of a psycho.”
I suck in a jagged breath, but it is no good. I’m sobbing like a baby.
The door bursts open and Lello runs in. His arms wrap around me and hold me tight.
“Why did you make Ned cry!” he yells at Morgan. “No, don’t say a word! You’re still woozy from venom and Ned is really sad. Mal will drive you home and anything you want to say to Ned, you’ll just have to say another day!”
Morgan makes a defeated sound. Then the bed moves. Lello has me squished so tight that I can’t see a thing, and I’m not sure I want to.
“Is that what you want, Ned? Do you want me to leave?”
I don’t want him to see me like this, and I need time to process everything he has just said. And Lello is right, Morgan probably is still high. Both of us being out of our minds while having a deep and emotional conversation, has to be a recipe for disaster.
I nod my head and gasp out a very pathetic sounding, “Sorry!”
“It’s fine, Ned. I understand,” he says gently.
And then he is gone.
Chapter twenty-seven
Morgan
It feels strange to be reading Jennifer’s note again. Every word is etched on to my soul, but it has been a while since I’ve looked at the physical copy.
Every word is exactly as I remember it. There is nothing odd or off. No hidden messages. Not one single thing I missed in the first thousand times I read it.
It’s her handwriting. Her turns of phrases. Her state of mind.
I sigh and run my hand through my hair. The other, unopened letters in the box I’ve pulled from the safe, stare up at me.
One for each of the children on their eighteenth birthdays. One for their wedding days. One for the birth of their first child, and one for if they decide not to have kids.
Would a billionaire trying to control Ned really go to all that trouble? It doesn’t seem likely. But I guess I can never be one hundred percent certain.
Carefully, I fold the letter and place it in its envelope. Then I return it to its box and replace the lid.
Nothing is certain in life. And what I told Ned really does feel like the truth. Even if Jennifer’s death was by Ritchie’s hand, it is still not Ned’s fault. He is not responsible for the actions of a psycho.
I slide the box back into the safe and close the door. The strong click is strangely satisfying. It’s strong, soothing. Final. An auditory accompaniment to the feeling of locking things away. I’ve physically put the letters away and I’ve also emotionally set them aside.
It lightens my mood, but I still feel like an old man as I make my way back to my office chair and sit down heavily.
My mind is still whirling. The pain of losing Jennifer has been shut away for now, but I can’t stop thinking about the implications for Ned.
Ritchie must have been evil incarnate. Poor Ned. Carrying that terrible guilt, believing he had caused his granddaughter’s death. No one should have to bear that. It is unfathomably cruel. Just thinking about the suffering it has caused Ned is breaking my heart. The broken look in Ned’s eyes as he told me what he believed, will haunt me forever.
Ned doesn’t deserve that. Nobody deserves that.
