Page 69 of Off the Rim
"Uh, this might have something to do with it," Ashton says, handing over another file. This one has my mother's name on it, and the first item inside the folder is a letter in her handwriting.
Dear Junior,
We've never met in person, but I trust that you know exactly who I am and why I'm writing. This isn't an easy letter for me to write, nor is it something I ever expected I would have to do, but it's clear by your actions that you have hid behind your wealth and power for too long, so much so that you've become blinded to your own cruelty.
The death of my husband was not a coincidence. You may not have murdered him with your own hands, but you know as well as I do that your years of harassment and calculated destruction of his business played a direct role in the stress that ultimately killed him. You pushed him too far, because of what? Some sick obsession with him from your teenaged years?
I'm sure you think it's all over now, that you can erase the past and move on, burying whatever love or guilt you may feel under piles of money, but that's not how this is going to end. You took my husband from me, and now you will have to answer for what you've done. The agreement you and Roman once had is no longer valid. With his death, the last thread of your twisted control on him is gone. Now you have me to contend with, and I have no choice but to hold you accountable for your actions.
I've spent months reflection on the pain you caused my family. I've seen the way you manipulated situations and used your position to make Roman's life harder than it had to be. I see the truth. The way you used your power to prove a point no one but you cared about. You couldn't stand the idea that Roman was moving on, happy, and building a life without your toxic influence. So you played with him, took away his livelihood. You used your influence to keep him down and struggling, reminding him at every opportunity that you still exist, when he just wanted to move on and live his life.
You wanted him to fail. You wanted to break him. And in the end, you succeeded.
Do you feel relieved? Or do you feel as empty as I do, knowing nothing can ever bring him back?
Ever since Roman's funeral, I have thought of the flowers you sent. Such a big, expensive display, with nothing but acompany logo and a generic sentiment. Exactly what you are. Big and flashy on the outside, generic and empty inside.
I can't help but wonder what would happen to your company, your name, your empire, if the world knew the full extent of your cruelty. I have the proof. And no amount of money, no bribe, no attempt at silencing me, will change the facts. I could take this to the media, to every outlet that will listen. People will know what you've done. And when they hear the truth, they'll understand the lengths you went to destroy a man who never did anything but love you.
But what I really want to know is why? Why couldn’t you just let him live?
Julia Vell
On the next page is a typed response on AJames Enterprise letterhead, marks along the side showing that it was clearly copied.
Dear Mrs. Vell,
I trust this letter finds you well. I’ve taken some time to reflect on the sentiments you shared with me months ago. While I understand your pain, I must admit that I am deeply sorry for the direction this is all taking. You have my condolences for your loss, and I can only imagine the weight of the burden you’ve carried since Roman’s passing.
I've sought to give you time and understanding that your words are those of a grieving spouse. However, I must address a matter that has recently come to my attention. My son, Ashton, has shown an interest in your son, Marcus. I find it convenient, to say the least, that Ashton’s sudden interest in Marcus coincides with the threats you made inyour previous letter. It seems odd that after all this time, your son’s future would suddenly be intertwined with a business matter I assumed was settled long ago.
If this is part of your plan to drag my family into your vendetta against me, I strongly urge you to cease immediately. Should you be foolish enough to involve Ashton in whatever personal crusade you feel the need to pursue, be advised: to threaten my heir is to declare war. And I don’t take kindly to such provocations.
You’ve made your point clear, Julia. Let me make mine just as clear. If you continue with your threats, you will find Marcus’ dreams—his basketball opportunities, the very things that will propel him to a better life—will suddenly be out of reach. I have influence that stretches far and wide, and I will use every bit of it to ensure Marcus never gets the chances you’ve dreamed of for him.
As for your accusations about me and Roman, I would remind you that Roman’s business failed not because of me, but because he was simply not a good businessman. The decisions he made—decisions that left his business vulnerable—were his own. As a businessman, I saw an opportunity to help revitalize the town’s infrastructure and bring in commerce. I understand that you, a bartender with a degree in graphic arts, may not fully grasp the complexities of such decisions. But I assure you, they were made with the community’s best interests at heart. And as for your accusations about my past with Roman, let's be honest, Julia, those are nothing more than a desperate attempt to tarnish my reputation.
I would strongly suggest you reconsider your next steps. If you continue down this path, you will regret it.
Kind regards,
Ashton James II
My eyes close, and I think back to the sometimes-erratic behavior my mom exhibited. She wasn't able to come to a lot of my games because she worked so much, but now that I'm thinking about it, she always came to the games against Easton Academy. And after every game, she'd shuffle me away before I could so much as look at Ashton too much, much less talk to him.
She had to work the night of that championship game, couldn't get out of it. She blamed herself for what happened, and now I understand why.
"My mom provoked him," I say quietly.
Ashton pulls my chin to look away from the letters and face him. "That doesn't make what my dad did okay. It does sort of explain why he acted like you'd done it on purpose. He thought you were trying to set me up."
"My mom thought that, too. She thought you staged the whole thing." I huff out a breath, remembering how upset she was. When she met me in the emergency room later, I thought she might start throwing stuff again. She kept apologizing. "She wanted me to go after Kent Richards until she found out that your dad had gotten involved. She stopped pushing after that, and let me let it drop."
"I think you should have gone after him," Ashton says. "They would have settled to keep it out of the press. You could have used the money to pay for school, taken a walk-on spot on a good team, and you wouldn't have been set back."
"I think I was exactly where I needed to be," I tell him, averting my eyes because I can feel my ears turning red, and I didn't mean for that to sound as mushy as it did.
Coughing, I start shuffling the papers back into their folders, taking pictures of anything that might be of interest later. We’ve taken too much time already. We’re not going to get away with hiding out in this closet all night without anyone noticing we've gone missing.
