Chapter 8 - The Clean Slate
Six months later, the final divorce decree was signed in a quiet office overlooking the city park.
Michael had lost his job at the corporate firm where Sarah’s influence had once protected him. Stripped of their financial security and facing federal fraud charges, Sarah was awaiting trial in a facility where designer coats and smug smiles carried no weight. Michael tried to call me twice—once to apologize, and once to ask for financial help—but I blocked his number permanently.
Matthew and I were sitting on a picnic blanket under the warm afternoon sun, eating chocolate cupcakes with blue frosting. There were no balloons bumping against a ceiling, no inspection of kitchen corners, and no fear.
May you like
Matthew laughed as a stray dog chased a butterfly across the grass, running freely without looking over his shoulder for permission.
My father walked over, handing me a fresh cup of coffee, and smiled down at his grandson. "Looks like the weather cleared up for good, kiddo."
