The mansion she proudly called hers?
Also mine.
Daniel folded his arms.
“Why are you still standing here?”
I picked up my purse.
“Because I wanted to remember this moment.”
Evelyn laughed.
“For your diary?”
“No,” I said softly.
“For court.”
Then I walked out.
Neither of them understood what had just begun.
By sunset, Daniel had changed the locks.
By midnight, Evelyn posted a smiling photograph from the foyer.
Peace returns when disrespect leaves.
I saw the post while sitting in a hotel suite with an ice pack pressed against my face.
Across from me sat Marissa Vale, my attorney.
She glanced at the bruise and opened her laptop.
“Do you want the professional version,” she asked, “or the devastating one?”
“The devastating one.”
She smiled.
