For years, his promises were a steady drumbeat: wait, he said, endure a little more; the docks will be mine and danger will pass. I believed him because we had bled together, because when enemies came, he carried me as if my life alone mattered. I forgave punches, insults, late nights, and the way he sometimes watched other women with a greedy smile that tightened my stomach. I washed his wounds and mended his pride; he built an empire on my patience. At night, I imagined a small house, sunlight on a table, a child's laugh through the rooms. I held faith because love had been our shelter. But love can not restrain appetite, and appetite has teeth. The man before me spoke of settling, yet his hands still reached beyond comfort; his heart left room for others. That was the betrayal I could not accept and my trust.
That year—here in this casino—Samuel and I had hidden our not-yet-one-year-old daughter from enemies. To survive, we closed up in a box and covered her mouth. We held her until she stopped breathing. That day, Samuel's cries echoed across Harbor City. He swore on his severed finger to avenge our daughter's death.
I bow to the heavens as well.
If, one day, Maggie Westbrook could forgive me.
If one day she would come back into my arms.
I promise I will change, become good, and never kill again. Now, Samuel is the ruler of Harbor City, the owner of this casino.
He can reattach a severed finger and abandon old vows.
He can let his lover trample whole stacks of photographs.
But I cannot.
I want to build a blessed life for my child.
I want to bury these old wounds behind us.
Then I can take our child to a place without strife or betrayal and live out the rest of my days.
Samuel refused the divorce.
Not because he was unwilling to let her go.
But because his little girl called, suddenly saying she was afraid of the dark.
He dashed over, barely letting me finish a sentence.
That impatient bastard could not wait to send me a taunting video.
In the bright, spotless, floor-to-ceiling window light, Samuel was half-kneeling, washing her feet.
I knew this house.
When Samuel and I first came to Harbor City to make a living, we stood at the base of this building and looked up.
I had imagined standing by that window, sharing this view with my lover, and dying without regrets. Now Samuel could buy the whole building.
But the woman who lived there was not me.