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Slowly, I rip open the letter, and unfold it.
My heart races into my throat as I sit back, unable to move, and read.
Heloise,you’re probably pissed. I don’t blame you, sweetie, I really don’t. I’m so sorry it came to this, and by the end of this letter, I hope you understand and can forgive both of us. At least, forgive Erick, because he did it for you, even if it hurt for a while.
I’m not dead. Well, I will be soon. As of this writing, the last doctor I spoke with gave me weeks. He’s some Caribbean quack so who knows if he’s right, but based on the way I feel, it’s probably close. I’m sorry, hon. I wish I had better news—surprise, your daddy’s alive and he’s okay!—but that’s not how this story ends. The cancer was always real, and it was always going to get me in the end.
I love you. I want you to know it. What I said to you back at Erick’s place, I meant every word. You’re the best thing in my life and you always were. Thank you for being who you are, and don’t mourn me again. You already got that over with.
But now, I’m sure you figured it out, but in case you haven’t:
I faked my death.
Erick helped.
I made him swear he wouldn’t tell you about it. I love you, hon, but you’re a terrible liar. You got that from your mother. If you knew, Gallo and Frost never would’ve believed it, and they would’ve hunted me down during my final months. That I lasted this long is a minor miracle.
Here’s the thing. Erick is still under the impression that my “partner” stole the money and disappeared. You all assumed my last heist was that truck robbery, but that’s not it.
My last heist is this one. It’s giving you the money I stole like I always planned.
On the back, you’ll find instructions for how to access a Swiss bank account. You’ll find it contains every dollar I took, minus a million bucks. Had to keep a little something for my final days. You understand.
All that money is yours. I suspect you don’t need it now that you’re with Erick, but if you ever do—it’s there.
I stole it to leave you a legacy. Something to remember me by that isn’t just heartbreak and hatred. That’s why I never left Vegas. That’s why I sent the stupid email. It was always meant for you, Heloise, and I had to track you down so I could give it to you. I’m sorry it was such a mess, and I could’ve done it better, but hey, it worked out in the end.
There’s not much else to say. Don’t feel sorry, and don’t come looking.
I’m already gone.
I love you,
Dad.
It takesa while to process what it says. I sit in the studio, reading and re-reading, and eventually use my laptop to check the account.
He wasn’t lying. There’s a lot of money just waiting there in my name. I don’t need money, but my father nearly killed himself getting all this cash for me.
I’m not sure what to feel. Dozens of emotions swirl, filling my head. Confusion, anger, hurt, sorrow, joy, everything. At some point, Erick comes in and kisses my hair, his customary greeting. “You okay?” he asks. “Marina said you’ve been off ever since getting a letter this afternoon.”
I hold it up for him. “Dad sent it.” He stares but doesn’t seem surprised. “So it’s all true then, huh? You helped him fake his death.”
Erick pulls up a chair, places it facing me, and sits down. He leans forward, looking into my eyes. “I am so fucking sorry I didn’t tell you right away.”
“Dad says he convinced you not to.”
“We cut a deal. I couldn’t let him stick around here, and I couldn’t let him go, either. He came up with the fake death thing, and he also made me swear not to say anything about it. I told him I wouldn’t for one year. After a year, I was going to tell you and come clean. I’m really, really sorry.”
“Why?” I ask, blinking back tears.
“Because it was the only way he could spend his last days in freedom. I thought you’d want that, even if you had to go through some hell to get to this point. I wanted to give you that.”
I nod, wiping my eyes. “I feel like I lost him all over again.”
“You didn’t, Hellie. You didn’t. He’s been gone since the day he left, only he’s been hanging around on borrowed time, spending his last days in comfort instead of dead in some ditch. I know lying to you was wrong, but it was either that or risk letting the whole thing fall apart, and I couldn’t do it. I’m so, so sorry you had to go through all this. I really am. I’m so sorry.”
I stare at him for a long moment then throw myself into his arms. He grabs me, the chair squealing back, and he hugs me to his chest. I’m on my knees in front of him, my face pressed into his shirt, sobbing like a total moron. Crying because of this incredible gift he gave me, crying because I lost my father for a second time, crying because they both did these painful things for me.
