For the first time, he realized that the two million dollars might not have been stolen by Margaret at all.
Someone had used her identity.
Someone had created evidence.
And someone had convinced him to destroy the reputation of a woman who had spent decades protecting his company.
He returned his attention to the phone.
"Daniel, freeze every document connected to this case. I want an independent forensic audit."
"Understood."
"And don't let anyone destroy the original records."
"I'll take care of it."
Richard ended the call.
He looked through the window.
The clouds below seemed endless.
Somewhere beneath them was the life he had built.
A life that might have been founded on a terrible injustice.
A little later, the flight attendant announced that the aircraft would begin its descent toward Boston in approximately thirty minutes.
Richard stood and approached Emily again.
"May I speak with you for a moment?"
Emily looked up.
"About what?"
"Your mother."
Emily's expression became guarded.
"What about her?"
"I want to know what happened after she left the company."
Emily sighed.
"Mr. Whitmore, I don't think there's anything I can tell you that you don't already know."
"Then tell me what I don't know."
She looked at Lily, who was drawing again.
Then she turned back to him.
"My mother spent the first six months trying to prove she hadn't taken the money. She contacted your office repeatedly. She hired a lawyer, but she couldn't afford to continue after the company threatened to sue her for violating the settlement agreement."
Richard listened without interrupting.
"Eventually, she stopped fighting. She lost her apartment, took several temporary jobs, and moved into a smaller place outside the city. She never recovered financially."
Emily paused.
"Then she became ill."
Richard lowered his eyes.
"Was it cancer?"
Emily nodded.
"Pancreatic cancer."
He looked away.
"How long did she live after the diagnosis?"
"Fourteen months."
Richard closed his eyes.
"Emily, I'm sorry."
She looked at him.
"She waited for you."
The words were barely louder than a whisper.
Richard raised his head.
"She waited?"
"Every time the phone rang, she hoped it was you. Every time someone knocked on the door, she thought maybe you had finally come to explain what happened."
Emily swallowed.
"Near the end, she stopped asking."
Richard's hands tightened.
"Why didn't anyone tell me she was sick?"
"She tried."
Emily reached into her handbag again.
This time she took out a small envelope.
It was old, yellowed at the edges, and carefully sealed.
"My mother kept this until the day she died."
Richard stared at it.
"What's inside?"
"Her final letter to you."
He did not take it immediately.
Emily continued.
"She asked me not to send it unless I ever met you again. I never thought that would happen."
Richard slowly reached for the envelope.
On the front, in familiar handwriting, were four words.
For Richard, if he remembers.
His vision blurred.
He had seen Margaret write hundreds of notes.
He knew the shape of every letter.
This was unmistakably hers.
"Did you read it?" he asked.
Emily shook her head.
"No."
"Why not?"
"Because it wasn't written for me."
Richard held the envelope carefully.
He wanted to open it immediately.
But something stopped him.
He was afraid of what it might contain.
Not because he expected another accusation.
Because he suspected the letter might reveal something he would never be able to forgive himself for.
"Thank you," he whispered.
Emily nodded.
"Please don't make promises you can't keep."
Richard looked at her.
"I won't."
For the rest of the descent, he held the envelope in both hands.
The paper weighed almost nothing.
Yet it seemed heavier than every business contract he had ever signed.
When the aircraft finally landed, the passengers began collecting their belongings.
Richard remained seated.
He wanted to speak with Emily privately, but he did not want to force another conversation.
He waited until Lily had gathered her small backpack.
Then he approached them.
"Emily, would you allow me to give you my contact information?"
She looked uncertain.
"Why?"
"Because I intend to investigate what happened to your mother."
"You don't have to do that."
"I know."
He paused.
"But I should have done it nine years ago."
Emily looked at him for a long moment.
Then she took a small card from her handbag and handed it to him.