“Vanessa, sweetheart,” he begged. “I was under pressure. Grief broke me. I didn’t mean to push you away. I just needed space! I love you. We can fix this. We have seventy-five million! Everything can be perfect again!”
I looked at him—at the same hands that had thrown a check at my feet and watched me be expelled into the rain. In his eyes, I saw no love. Only panic. Greed. Fear of being poor.
I remembered Arthur’s final nights. Sleeping in my car. Being discarded like trash.
Slowly, I freed my hands and stood.
“You’re right about one thing, Curtis,” I said evenly. “Pain clarifies things. And I see very clearly now.”
“Vanessa, please!” he sobbed, collapsing to his knees. “Don’t do this! I’m your husband!”
“Not anymore,” I said quietly. “You decided that. You told me I didn’t belong in your life.”
I turned to Sterling.
“When can I take possession of the house?”
“Immediately, Mrs. Vanessa. The locks will be changed within the hour.”
“Perfect,” I said, heading for the door.
“You can’t leave me like this!” Curtis screamed behind me, crawling forward. “What am I supposed to do?!”
I paused without turning around.
“You’ll receive two thousand dollars a month, Curtis,” I said calmly. “I suggest you learn to budget. Or maybe find a job. I hear caregiving positions are always available. It might teach you what it actually means to care for someone.”
I stepped outside. The sunlight felt unreal. The air tasted new—not because of the money, though that mattered—but because justice had finally arrived.
I got into my car. It was no longer a place of tears, but the start of something new. As I drove away, I caught sight of Curtis in the mirror—staggering out of the building, shouting into his phone, blaming someone else.
I smiled.
His smile was gone for good.
Mine was just beginning.
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