Chapter 10
The legal process moved swiftly thanks to the undeniable digital evidence Detective Miller had secured. By the end of the second week, Sarah Jenkins’s public defender advised her to waive a preliminary hearing in exchange for the prosecutor dropping the more severe charges of premeditated first-degree murder down to attempted poisoning and aggravated assault, though she was still looking at a substantial prison sentence.
With the legal storm temporarily clearing, Jax turned his attention to practical matters. The house still held too many physical reminders of Sarah—her clothes, her expensive cosmetics, her minimalist decor that had always felt more like a showroom than a home. On a sunny Saturday afternoon, Jax handed Leo a large cardboard box and told him it was time for a purge.
"Everything she brought into this house goes into these boxes," Jax instructed, tossing a velvet throw pillow into a pile by the front door. "We're starting fresh, kid. Your rules, my rules."
Leo eagerly joined in, carrying small items out to the large metal dumpster parked in the driveway. As they worked side by side, Jax noticed the boy hesitating in front of the master bedroom closet, staring at a small wooden jewelry box that Sarah had left behind on the top shelf during her hasty flight.
"Leave it, Leo," Jax said, walking over and resting a heavy hand on the boy's shoulder. "We don't need her things."
"I know," Leo murmured, but his hazel eyes were fixed on a small corner of the box where a folded piece of paper was sticking out. It didn't look like Sarah’s expensive stationary; it looked old, worn, and written in hurried handwriting. "Dad... look at that."
May you like
Jax frowned, reaching out to pull the paper free. He unfolded it slowly on the edge of the dresser. It was an old letter, dated nearly nine years ago, bearing the letterhead of a downtown maternity clinic. The handwriting was neat, feminine, and utterly unmistakable—it was a letter written by Clara, Leo’s late mother, addressed to Jax himself.
Jax’s breath hitched in his throat as his eyes scanned the faded ink. Clara hadn't fled out of fear or hatred, as Sarah had always claimed. She had written to tell Jax that she was having his baby, but Sarah—who had been working as an administrative assistant at the clinic at the time—had intercepted the letter, hidden it from Jax, and later threatened Clara into leaving the city under the false pretense that Jax wanted nothing to do with them.
