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“This came today.”
She handed Portia an envelope. “It’s from Corinne. The Pinkerton detective I hired found her.”
Portia beat down her trembling. “Do I want to read it?”
“No, but you should.”
Filled with dread, Portia slipped the single sheet of vellum from the envelope and read. E. Do not contact me again. Have a good life now. No desire for the old. Make this clear to Portia and Regan. I repeat. Do not contact me again. C.
“I guess that’s that,” Portia said softly.
“I’m sorry, honey.”
Portia nodded. “Thank you, Eddy. I’ll move on with my life.”
“As will we all.”
After her aunt’s departure, Portia walked over and closed the door. With her back against it, she surrendered to the emotion and silently wept.
