Chapter 96 Eleanor
Eleanor
There are only three kinds of endings.
The ones you fear.
The ones you deserve.
And the ones you choose.
I have always preferred the third.
The boy was my only failure.
Not because he betrayed me.
Because he was never mine to begin with.
He has his father’s conscience. His grandmother’s stubborn morality. He was built for daylight.
I was not.
The mistake was thinking I could shape him anyway.
I pack only what matters.
Not clothes. Not jewelry. Not souvenirs of power.
Documents.
Drives.
Names.
Leverage.
The house is quiet. It always has been. I kept it that way. This place was never an asset.
It was a memory.
I light the first line of accelerant and sit down.
The pill bottle is already in my pocket.
They will come.
Marco will come.
I allow myself one small smile at that.
Rourke is dead. The board is gone. The network is ashes.
There will be trials. Hearings. Stories.
But not about me.
I will not sit under fluorescent lights and let small men summarize my life.
I will not let strangers decide which parts of me survive.
I swallow the pills with a glass of water and smooth my jacket.
The fire will take the house.
Marco will take the files.
And I will take my name with me.
That is the only legacy that matters.