The Reason

I left the room after the shooting. There were no visible traces or clues. Everything appeared to be a case of suicide.
When I got home, I took a shower, had dinner, and waited. Two hours later, the police called me. My reaction was that of someone who had just lost their wife to suicide. The officer didn't seem suspicious.
The corruption scandal was about to erupt, but the party halted it after her death. The powerful group that had bribed her wouldn't allow a public trial. There was no escape.
I couldn't explain any of this to my seven-year-old daughter. What could I possibly say to her? She, my wife, was gone.
I knew she was right when she asked me to end her life. She had no chance. She couldn't leave the hotel. She was destined to die one way or another.
I did it for her and for our daughter. Her mother was a corrupt politician, but our child would inherit a substantial fortune because of it.
We were estranged. I couldn't accept her way of earning money, but I loved her, despite everything. Now, I must keep a safe distance from our daughter and the people associated with my wife. This is the only way to protect my daughter.
For this reason I must leave. I'll let the lawyers take care of our daughter. Perhaps one day she'll understand, but I hope she never does. She shouldn't be aware of any of this.
Perhaps I'm not the bravest man. I'm not proud of my actions or choices. However, I'm uncertain what alternative course of action I could have taken.
I called the gang's leader to inform him that the job was done. He didn't respond. He just hung up when he heared my words.
The next day, they sent me a one-way ticket to a distant country. I never had the chance to say goodbye to our daughter. I penned a letter and placed it in the care of my lawyers, with explicit instructions to hand it over to her upon her eighteenth birthday.
I may never learn whether she will indeed read it.

The Reason