CHAPTER 6
By midnight, the grand ballroom of the Palmer House Hotel was completely empty, leaving behind only scattered rose petals and discarded champagne flutes.
I sat in the quiet study of my Gold Coast townhouse, wearing a comfortable cashmere cardigan, drinking hot tea while Judith sat across from me reviewing legal updates.
A soft knock sounded at the heavy front door, making the old brass knocker ring gently through the quiet foyer.
Judith opened the door to reveal Jackson standing on the porch under the pouring Chicago rain, his tuxedo jacket gone, his white shirt soaked through, looking thoroughly broken.
"Is Mom still awake?" Jackson asked, his voice raw, hoarse, and trembling with deep, agonizing shame.
"She is," Judith replied coldly, stepping aside to let him enter the warm entryway. "But if you came here to defend that woman, you can turn right back around into the storm."
"I'm not defending anyone," Jackson whispered, dropping his head into his hands as heavy sobs began to wrack his shoulders. "I filed for an emergency annulment two hours ago at the county clerk's office."
May you like
I walked out into the foyer, holding my teacup, watching my son collapse onto his knees right on the Persian rug Henry and I had bought forty years ago.
"Mom... I'm so sorry," Jackson wept, looking up at me with eyes full of genuine remorse. "I traded Dad's memory and your dignity for someone who didn't care about either of us."
