Chapter 9 - The Choice of a New Life
Patrick sat back in his ergonomic leather chair, spinning his executive pen between his fingers as he looked out the floor-to-ceiling glass window at the autumn leaves swirling across the streets of downtown Albany.
He thought about the boy who had sat by the campus fountain four months ago with a plain navy blue folder and thirty-seven missed calls on his phone. He remembered the cold hollow in his chest when he looked up at the bleachers and saw no one cheering his name. He remembered the diner shifts, the exhausted nights, the desperate loneliness of putting himself through the world entirely alone.
And then he looked at where he was now.
He was twenty-three years old. He was a senior corporate auditor at a prestigious firm, earning a salary that put him in total financial independence. He had colleagues who respected him, a career he was proud of, and a future built entirely on his own terms.
He didn't hate his parents. Hatred required an investment of emotional energy that he no longer cared to spend on them. They were simply people who lived in a different world—a world built on favoritism, superficial appearances, and the endless, exhausting drama of the golden child.
He picked up his desk phone, dialed internal extension 402, and waited for Chloe to pick up.
"O’Neill speaking," Chloe answered cheerfully.
"Hey, Chloe," Patrick said calmly. "About that envelope that came in earlier..."
"Ah, yes. The mystery invitation. Did you decide to RSVP 'Yes' and demand VIP seating next to the baby carriage?"
Patrick smiled. "No. I’m going to RSVP 'No'."
"Good for you, boss," Chloe said, her voice dropping into a tone of genuine warmth. "Some people don't deserve an encore."
"Exactly," Patrick said. "Hey, are you and the rest of the tax team free next Saturday afternoon? I’m thinking about hosting a small housewarming party at my apartment to celebrate closing the Miller Group acquisition."
"Are you kidding? Free food and drinks in your fancy apartment with a view of the river? Count us in! I’ll bring my famous homemade brownies."
"Sounds like a plan. See you tomorrow, Chloe."
Patrick hung up the phone. He took the invitation card and Eleanor’s handwritten letter, held them over his sleek silver wastebasket, and dropped them inside.
May you like
He didn't feel a shred of regret. As the papers settled at the bottom of the bin, he felt a profound, exhilarating sense of closure.
He had walked across the stage alone. He had built his life alone. And for the first time in his twenty-three years, he realized that being alone wasn't a punishment—it was absolute freedom.
