Chapter 21
[This is a letter I never had the courage to send. Jessie, I think I’ve fallen for you. But you’re always
by Nelson’s side, and your eyes light up when you look at him. I know this will only ever be a silent,
one–sided love.]
Standing there in her snow–white wedding gown, Jessie’s eyes glistened with tears.
She hadn’t expected it–Charles had been in love with her since high school.
She turned to look at him, heart full, eyes soft.
Just then, a security guard burst into the room in a panic.
“Mr. Holland! Someone’s threatening to jump from the roof. It’s Mr. Voss.”
Jessie’s hands trembled.
She thought she’d made everything clear to Nelson yesterday.
Charles stepped forward. “I’ll handle it.”
Jessie shook her head. “No. Charles… let the ceremony start twenty minutes late. Is that okay?”
He pulled her gently into his arms, voice tender. “I know if something happened to him, you
wouldn’t be able to live with it. I’ll wait.”
Tears brimmed again in Jessie’s eyes.
Maybe she didn’t know how to love Charles yet–but she was willing to spend the rest of her life
learning.
She made her way to the rooftop.
There stood Nelson, in the same white suit he’d worn at their wedding thirteen years ago.
Even after all this time, Jessie recognized it instantly.
“Nelson, do you want to die?”
Nelson’s crimson eyes blazed with agony. He stood at the edge of the top floor–one more step, and he’d plummet from the 78th floor of the Holland Group, his body shattered beyond recognition.
“Jessie,” he croaked, voice hoarse. “Without you, I can’t survive another day.”
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Jessie gave a watery smile. “I thought the same thing when I saw you at the airport, kissing Lila. I thought losing you would kill me.”
Nelson’s voice broke. “Please… Jessie, forgive me. I’ve been looking for you every day for the past five years. If I had known you never left the country, I would’ve come back the second I found out.”
Jessie simply asked, “Nelson, did you ever go to the restaurant where we used to celebrate our anniversary every year?”
Nelson flinched.
That place inside this very hotel–had been where they celebrated every year.
He’d picked it once, deliberately, to spite Charles, just to show off how happy he and Jessie were.
But Jessie ended up loving it.
“There,” she said quietly, “is my last anniversary gift to you. It’s been waiting for seven years. Go pick it up. Charles is still waiting for me downstairs. I’ve already returned the 30 billion dollars. We’re even now. Let’s not owe each other anything ever again.‘
Still wearing her wedding dress, she turned and walked away.
Just like that day in the hospital–Jessie didn’t look back, even if he died right there on the rooftop.
Nelson rushed to the restaurant, breathless, demanding the staff bring him her gift.
The manager returned with a frozen box.
“Mr. Voss,” he said solemnly, “Ms. Hale left this five years ago. She told us to give this to you if you
ever came.”
Nelson’s hands shook as he opened it. The moment he saw the hospital markings, he knew.
Inside, preserved in a chilled slurry, were two tiny, indistinct shapes–two lost lives, bloodied and
torn.
Nelson collapsed, sobbing.
In that moment, he finally understood.
Why Jessie never forgave him.
Their two unborn children were gone. And that loss would forever stand between them.
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Downstairs, the wedding was beginning.
Charles took Jessie’s hand, and the ceremony commenced.
The story of 999 love letters stunned the entire nation.
A seventeen–year–long secret crush–now out in the open for the world to see.
On their wedding night, Jessie received news: Nelson had donated the full 30 billion dollars to
Holland Group’s children’s charity fund.
She glanced at Charles, then leaned in and kissed the corner of his brow.
“Thank you… honey.”
Hearing her call him that, Charles leaned in and kissed Jessie gently on the lips.
“Jessie,” he murmured, “no matter how hard Nelson clings to the past, I will never let go of your
hand.”
Jessie smiled through misty eyes.
“I’ll learn to love you,” she whispered.
That night, Nelson jumped from the top of what used to be the Voss family house.
By the next morning, the entire city was flooded with headlines of Nelson’s suicide.
Jessie didn’t dare look at the gruesome photos.
Charles was the one who handled the funeral arrangements. He kept it quiet, respectful.
The front page of every paper ran the story of Nelson’s death–but none revealed the final detail
known only to a few.
When Nelson was found, his hand clutched a single, vibrant red rose.
The image pulled Jessie back to a memory from when she was fifteen.
“Nelson,” the teenage girl had asked, leaning close to the boy, “what kind of flower do you think I
am?”
He had just lifted his head then, his boyish features soft with a crooked smile.
His eyes, always filled with her, crinkled with warmth as he pointed to a small potted plant she’d
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just placed on the windowsill.
With a teasing tone, he replied,
“You’re a rose, Jessie. Bright, beautiful–and covered in thorns. Fragile, but sharp. The kind only I
could ever take care of.”
Now, Jessie turned her head toward the bouquet Charles had left for her that morning–red roses.
Tears rolled silently down her cheeks.
Chapter 21
