Chapter 5 - The Letter He Was Afraid to Open
Damon carried Elena’s final letter for eleven days without opening it.
He negotiated a seventy-million-dollar corporate crisis in that time.
He removed two executives.
He testified to federal investigators.
He watched Richard surrender his board position.
Yet he could not open one envelope.
Zuri noticed.
“Scared?”
Damon looked down.
They were in the garden.
“Of a piece of paper?”
She nodded.
He smiled.
“Maybe.”
Zuri climbed onto the bench beside him.
“You’re big.”
“So?”
“Big people can be scared.”
Damon laughed.
“Who taught you that?”
“Mama.”
Of course.
Naomi had become an unexpected constant at the mansion.
Damon had offered her paid leave during the investigation.
She refused.
“I need normal,” she told him.
But normal had changed.
Damon found himself timing coffee breaks to coincide with Naomi’s work in the breakfast room.
He asked about Zuri.
Then about Naomi.
He learned she had studied accounting for two years before financial problems forced her to leave college.
He learned she wanted to return.
He learned she hated olives.
He learned she laughed quietly when genuinely amused and loudly when surprised.
And Damon began to recognize something dangerous.
He enjoyed hearing it.
That terrified him more than Elena’s letter.
One evening, Naomi found him sitting alone in the study.
“You still haven’t opened it.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because Elena knew me.”
“That’s usually considered a good thing in a marriage.”
He smiled.
“She knew how to make me face things I didn’t want to face.”
Naomi sat opposite him.
“What do you think she wrote?”
“That I should move forward.”
“And that scares you?”
“It feels like leaving her behind.”
Naomi considered this.
“My grandmother died when I was nineteen.”
Damon waited.
“For almost a year, I wouldn’t cook her recipes. I thought if I changed anything, I’d lose her.”
“What happened?”
“I realized memories aren’t glass.”
Damon looked at her.
“You don’t protect them by never touching them.”
She stood.
“Good night, Mr. Ashford.”
“Damon.”
Naomi paused.
“What?”
“My name is Damon.”
“I know.”
“Then use it.”
A small smile appeared.
“Good night, Damon.”
After she left, he opened Elena’s letter.
My stubborn lion,
If you’re reading this, congratulations. You ignored my instructions for at least several days.
Damon laughed.
Then cried.
Elena wrote about their marriage.
Their mistakes.
His obsession with control.
Her fear that after her death he would turn grief into a permanent residence.
Then came the words he had feared.
I don’t want you to spend the rest of your life proving you loved me by refusing to love anyone else.
Damon stopped.
He read the sentence again.
Elena continued.
You once told me the worst thing imaginable would be losing me.
You were wrong.
The worst thing would be losing yourself afterward.
The letter never told him whom to love.
It never mentioned Naomi romantically.
It asked only that he remain open to people.
To laughter.
To family.
To life.
At the bottom:
And if a tiny girl ever orders you around, listen. Children are often better bosses than billionaires.
Damon laughed so loudly Mrs. Whitfield knocked.
“Everything all right?”
“For the first time in a while.”
The corporate investigation progressed.
Victor Lang was located in Canada and returned to face charges.
Most of the stolen foundation money was recovered.
Richard voluntarily sold property to repay what remained from his portion.
But the most unexpected change happened quietly.
Damon established a scholarship through St. Matthew’s for single parents returning to school.
He did not tell Naomi.
Mrs. Whitfield did.
Naomi confronted him.
“You cannot secretly reorganize my life.”
“I didn’t.”
“You created a scholarship with requirements that describe me almost exactly.”
“Coincidence.”
“Damon.”
He surrendered.
“Elena helped you once.”
“So now you think you need to?”
“No.”
He stepped closer.
“I think you deserve the opportunity you were working toward before life got expensive.”
Naomi’s eyes softened.
“You’re terrible at receiving thanks, aren’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
Neither moved.
For the first time, Damon became acutely aware of how close she was.
Naomi seemed to notice too.
Then:
“Damon!”
Zuri came running.
Moment gone.
She held something behind her back.
“What?”
“Present.”
She produced a drawing.
Three stick figures.
One tall brown-haired man.
One woman in blue.
One tiny girl wearing pink.
Above them was a large gold lion.
Damon stared.
“That’s us,” Zuri explained.
“I figured.”
“You live here.”
“Yes.”
“Mama lives there.”
She pointed toward the edge of the page.
“Okay.”
Zuri frowned.
“Too far.”
Naomi nearly choked.
“Zuri.”
“What?”
Damon tried not to laugh.
Then Zuri looked at him.
“Boss order.”
“Oh, no.”
“Mommy needs dinner.”
Naomi covered her face.
Damon crouched.
“Are you ordering me to take your mother to dinner?”
“Yes.”
Naomi groaned.
Damon looked up at her.
For three years, he had refused every invitation, every setup, every possibility.
Now he heard Elena’s words.
Stay open to life.
“Your boss seems demanding.”
Naomi smiled.
“She is.”
Damon stood.
“Dinner?”
Naomi hesitated.
Then:
“One dinner.”
Zuri clapped.
But the following morning, before that dinner could happen, Damon received a call from his attorney.
There was one final problem.
Victor Lang had made a statement.
And according to him, Elena’s investigation had uncovered one secret that had never appeared on any of the seven recordings.
May you like
A secret concerning Zuri.
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