Chapter 4: The Final Letter**
Under the dim beam of Marcus’s flashlight, Arthur unfolded the water-damaged stationery. The ink had run in several spots, but Clara’s graceful cursive remained legible.
> *Arthur,*
> *If you are reading this, it means my heart finally gave out. The doctors told me three months ago that the infection had reached my lungs, but without insurance, there was little I could do.*
> *I never hated you for leaving. You were meant for a bigger world, and I knew I couldn't keep pace with your towering ambitions. But I couldn't give Lily the life she deserved. I worked three jobs until my body couldn't stand anymore.*
> *I gave her your locket. I told her that her father was not a bad man—just a man who forgot what mattered. Please don't let her grow up in the cold, Arthur. She has your stubborn chin and your kind heart, the one you used to have before the world turned you hard.*
> *Forgive yourself. Raise our daughter.*
> *— Clara*
A single tear rolled down Arthur’s cheek, splashing onto Clara's name. For ten years, he had measured his worth in stock portfolios, skyscraper blueprints, and social standing. In five minutes, standing in an alley of trash and cold rain, he realized he was the poorest man alive.
Lily stepped forward, tugging at Arthur’s sleeve. "Is Mommy sleeping?"
Arthur swallowed the lump in his throat, wiped his eyes, and picked Lily up into his arms, pressing her head gently against his neck so she wouldn't see the paramedics arrive.
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"She’s at peace now, sweetheart," Arthur whispered, his voice thick with raw resolve. "And you’re never going to be cold again. I swear to you, never again."
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