237 Ks Zero Fs Chapter 21
Half a month later. Early spring in London.
In my office by the Thames, I signed for an international package from Seattle.
Inside was a final divorce decree signed by a judge, and the attached marital property division agreement.
According to the agreement, he’d waived all rights and unconditionally transferred his pension accounts, trust fund, and the cash from the sale of the townhouse into my name.
There was also a sealed plastic bag.
Inside was the ultrasound printout. His handwriting marked it. “Ours.”
Tucked inside was a sheet of blank paper. Just one line, scrawled in an extremely shaky hand, as if written with the last of his strength:
**”I’m sorry. Please be happy. Use the money. Build a playground. On the ticket, write—’K.'”**
I stared at that “K.” for a long time.
Three years ago, that letter was the only echo in my marriage.
Now, it was my ex-husband’s last words.
I don’t know where Conor eventually went. Whether he died or checked himself into some hospice facility. I heard he moved to some small town after being discharged. No one ever saw him again.
He was like a Seattle rain. After he disappeared from my hallway that day, he never left another trace in my life.
I casually tucked the note into the depths of a drawer.
Then, with utter composure, I handed those asset documents over to my personal financial advisor.
All of this. He owed it to me. This debt, with interest, was long overdue.
I picked up my black coffee and looked out the window at the London Eye, the sky gradually clearing.