I opened each photo one by one, reading every word she had written, forcing myself to relive their four years together in the cruelest way possible.
On the third day after Richard was sent away, I found a letter he had written to Larissa. It was short, only a few words.
[Larissa, I feel so bad.]
After that, during the four years Richard was supposed to spend in prison, he had traveled the world. So tell me, did my mother, who had been run over again and again by his car and died, deserve this?
I slammed my fist against the wall until blood came, leaving a dark red handprint. My hands were shaking as I saved the evidence to my drive, then I logged out.
A new message appeared on my phone from an address I did not know. Every house listed there was worth hundreds of billions. I gave a bitter smile and felt the small box in my pocket.
I eventually thought to myself, ‘Larissa, I don’t want you anymore.’
Then, a voice I knew well cut through my thoughts.
“What don’t you want?”
Only then did I realize I had said the words out loud. I couldn’t hide the tears. So, I turned and held Larissa without thinking.
“Larissa, I miss my mom.”