Chapter 39
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Mr. Cunningham,
Am I addressing you correctly? I’ve never really bothered to look up the proper way to address a Navy SEAL. But from what I’ve gathered, you’re now retired and running some high-intelligence security company with your merry band of hellions. Impressive.
You’re probably wondering why I’m writing to you and why I needed to check up on what you’ve been doing these days. Well, here’s the thing—I’m sick. And not the kind where a bit of rest and chicken soup will do the trick. I’m talking about the “I’ll probably die any day now” kind. Poor Em, bless her heart, still thinks we’ll find a cure. Spoiler alert: we won’t. The doctors—yes, multiple—say I’ve got months, maybe a year, if I follow their tedious instructions.
Now, while I’d love to throw caution to the wind and spend my remaining time doing whatever the hell I want, I’m following those directions—for Em’s sake. But here’s the catch: once I’m gone, she’s going to need someone. This is where you come in, hopefully. She doesn’t need rescuing, just someone to love her. And I know I royally messed up by driving you away.
You reminded me so much of Charles. Obviously, you weren’t him, but by the time I figured that out, it was too late, wasn’t it?
That’s why I fought tooth and nail to drive you two apart. You might think of ways it could’ve been avoided, but I wasn’t going to stop, Mr. Cunningham. I was dead set on having you leave her, and I would’ve done anything to see it happen. And I did. For a moment, it felt great—until I saw how much I had hurt her. I honestly thought the heartache would fade, but it didn’t.
Of everything I’ve done in my life—and I’ve done a lot—that’s the one thing I’ll regret the most.
So, if you still love my granddaughter the way I once thought you did, consider this your chance to make things right. I might’ve done some things to force you two together. She might hate me for it, but hopefully, it’ll be what she needs to find happiness.
If you don’t, then give her freedom and everything back. Percival knows where the bank’s safe is—inside, you’ll find the key to what my dear, twisted friend called “the ultimate evil plan.” You’ll know what to do with it. Then, get a divorce, and I’ll pray (likely from hell) that she finds the love and family she’s always wanted.
Again, I’m sorry for meddling in your life and potentially ruining what could’ve been a fairy-tale ending. She really did love you, you know. I just didn’t see it back then.
Best,
Gertrude Langley