Eight months after our divorce, my ex-husband called to invite me to his wedding. He couldn't wait to brag that his new fiancée was pregnant—the very thing he once mocked me for never being able to give him

Six months later, spring returned to Chicago, painting the city in vibrant shades of green and gold.

Chloe was now seven months old, sitting propped up in a high chair, happily smashing a banana against her tray while laughing hysterically at her own reflection in the kitchen window. She had grown remarkably—bright, curious, and bursting with a joyful energy that filled every corner of our home.

My legal battles were entirely behind us. The civil suits had been settled in my favor, and Vantage Capital had restructured its internal compliance division, thanking me formally for exposing the internal corruption.

I had also officially filed for a legal name change for Chloe and myself, dropping any lingering legal ties to the Brooks name. We were officially and irrevocably Carters through and through.

On a warm Saturday morning, David Vance stopped by for brunch, carrying a bouquet of yellow tulips and a stack of final closing documents.

“Well, Mia,” David said, taking a sip of fresh coffee as he watched Chloe try to feed a piece of banana to the family cat, who wisely kept its distance. “It official. All assets from the liquidation of Adrian’s personal estate have been deposited into your trust. You are officially one of the youngest independent real estate and tech portfolio holders in the Midwest.”

“Thank you, David,” I smiled, pouring him another cup. “I couldn't have done it without your guidance.”

“Nonsense,” David laughed heartily. “I merely provided the legal scaffolding. You provided the iron spine. Speaking of which, how are you holding up with everything? Have you heard anything from the prison?”

I shook my head, feeling a profound sense of peace. “Nothing that matters. His lawyers tried to file for visitation rights last month, but given the federal fraud conviction and the complete absence of a prior relationship, the judge threw it out immediately. He’ll have plenty of time to think about his legacy from behind bars.”

“Good,” David said firmly, his expression softening. “You deserve peace, Mia. You and that little girl.”

After David left, I scooped Chloe up into my arms and walked out onto the back patio. The sun was warm, kissing our skin, and a gentle breeze rustled the leaves of the oak trees in the yard.