That was all.
The money had finally become boring.
The accountability was complete.
Sandra eventually sent me a letter too.
She apologized specifically for entering my home and taking my belongings.
Then she wrote something that stayed with me:
“I told myself you had more than you needed because I needed what you had.”
She admitted that she had convinced herself Tommy would inherit everything eventually, so they were simply “moving value forward.”
Elegant words for theft.
But then she admitted the part that mattered most.
“The ugliest thing I did was let you believe your memory was failing.”
She knew I had searched for the bracelet.
She knew I had talked about seeing a doctor.
She remained silent because she was afraid of the consequences.
Her letter ended:
“I hope you trust yourself again.”
I replied with two words.
“I do.”
We never became close.
We did not need to.
