Chapter 8 - Walking Away Clean
I folded the legal document, slid it neatly back into the leather portfolio, and zipped it shut. The metallic click of the zipper echoed loudly in the quiet evening air.
I knelt down beside Hazel and Paige, brushing the remaining dust from Paige’s light-blue dress and adjusting Hazel’s jacket.
“Are you girls ready to go home?” I asked softly, smiling warmly at them both.
“Yes, Mom,” Hazel said, her bright eyes shining with a quiet, fierce pride that mirrored my own. “Can we get ice cream on the way?”
“Whatever flavor you want,” I promised.
I stood up, stepping past Gavin, who remained slumped against the stone column like a broken marionette. I didn't offer him words of comfort, nor did I gloat. Some defeats are so total that they require no punctuation from the victor.
Arthur Vance held open the rear door of our waiting corporate sedan parked near the driveway, shielding us from the cold evening breeze.
As I slid into the back seat, with Hazel and Paige safely buckled beside me, I glanced out the window one last time.
Meredith was standing by the fountain, shouting empty threats at retreating relatives who refused to look back. Gavin was sitting on the edge of the stone terrace, staring blankly at his empty wineglass lying shattered on the manicured lawn.
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The three hundred thousand dollar note had been paid in full—not with money, but with the exact cost of pride, deceit, and arrogance.
Arthur closed the car door with a solid, reassuring thud, and the vehicle glided silently down the sweeping circular driveway, leaving the grand Minnetonka estate far behind in the rearview mirror.
