Chapter 13
Chapter 13: The Ghost in the Envelope
The mail arrived on a rainy Tuesday afternoon.
Lupita had sorted it, leaving the foundation's administrative letters on the kitchen island. Mariana was pouring a cup of coffee when she saw it.
A standard, cheap white envelope. The return address bore the unmistakable stamp of the Santa Martha Acatitla state penitentiary.
Patricia.
Mariana set her coffee mug down. The ceramic clicked softly against the granite.
She picked up the envelope. It felt incredibly light.
For a moment, the ghost of the past flickered in the room. The scent of expensive French perfume. The flash of a red dress. The echoing sound of a lock snapping shut on a metal cage.
Mariana opened the letter with a butter knife.
The handwriting was erratic, deeply aggressive. Patricia had filled two pages with venom, blaming Mariana for her ruin, complaining about the prison conditions, and promising that her expensive lawyers would eventually overturn the conviction. It was a pathetic, desperate attempt to reach through the prison bars and inflict one last emotional wound.
Three years ago, this letter might have caused Mariana’s blood to boil. She might have crumpled it in a fit of rage.
Today, Mariana’s facial expression barely shifted.
She read the final line, feeling nothing but a distant, clinical pity for a woman who was entirely consumed by her own toxic vanity.
Mariana didn't burn the letter dramatically in the fireplace. She didn't frame it as a trophy.
May you like
She simply walked over to the administrative paper shredder in the corner of the office, fed the two pages into the slot, and listened to the mechanical hum reduce Patricia’s rage into thin, meaningless strips of waste paper.
Then, she went back to her coffee. It was still warm.
