“What do you want your life to look like when this is finished?”
I stared at her.
I had prepared questions about divorce.
About money.
About Daniel’s threats.
But not that.
“I don’t know.”
Sarah nodded.
“That’s okay.”
I looked toward the harbor.
For six years, my schedule had revolved around Daniel.
His meetings.
His business trips.
His mother’s parties.
His moods.
I couldn’t remember the last time I’d made a plan simply because it would make me happy.
“I want to wake up without being afraid,” I said finally.
Sarah’s expression softened.
“That’s a good place to start.”
“I want to work again.”
“What kind of work?”
I hesitated.
“Community housing. Development projects that actually help people.”
She nodded.
“Anything else?”
I thought of my mother.
Of Caroline’s Bakery.
Of the cottage garden.
“I want to have dinner with my father without checking my phone every ten minutes.”
Sarah smiled.
“We can work toward that.”
Then I said the words I’d been afraid to say aloud.
“I want a divorce.”
She picked up her pen.
“All right.”
And just like that, the decision became real.
By Friday, the birthday video had begun circulating online.
I didn’t know who first shared it.
It showed Daniel gripping my hair.
Margaret laughing.
Guests stepping backward.
A serving platter crashing to the floor.
Within hours, the video spread through Charleston’s social circles.
Then it reached regional news outlets.
My face appeared on screens beside phrases like wealthy family’s birthday scandal and business executive accused of assaulting wife.
Daniel’s attorneys issued a statement saying he was cooperating with the investigation and asking the public not to draw conclusions from a short clip.
Margaret called it a private family matter.
I wanted to hide.
I didn’t want strangers arguing about the worst day of my life.
My father offered to handle all media inquiries.
Sarah advised me not to respond publicly while the legal matters unfolded.
I agreed.
But the messages from strangers still reached me.
Some were supportive.
Others asked why I hadn’t left sooner.
A few accused me of exaggerating.
I turned off my phone.
Then I went outside and planted yellow tulip bulbs in my mother’s garden.
It was the first peaceful afternoon I’d had in years.
That peace lasted until six o’clock.
My father’s security manager, Marcus Reed, appeared at the cottage.
“Ms. Carter, there’s someone at the front gate asking to see you.”
I looked up from the flower bed.
“Who?”
“Victoria Lane.”
My hand tightened around the small garden shovel.
“Why?”
“She says she has information concerning your husband.”
I stood slowly.
“Did she say what kind?”
Marcus hesitated.
“She claims that Daniel is preparing to leave the country.”
My stomach tightened.
“With money?”
“She wouldn’t give details.”
I wiped soil from my hands.
“Tell Rebecca.”
“Already done.”
I looked toward the main house.
The setting sun had turned the windows golden.
I wanted to say no.
I wanted Victoria Lane to disappear from my life.
But something told me that whatever she knew could matter to the people hurt by Whitmore Development’s financial decisions.
“Does she have an attorney?”
“She says she’s willing to speak with yours.”
I took a breath.
“Then she can speak with Rebecca.”
Marcus nodded.
But before he turned away, I asked one more question.
“Marcus, did she come alone?”
His expression changed.
“No, ma’am.”
“Who’s with her?”
“A little girl.”
I stared at him.
“A little girl?”
He nodded.
“About six years old.”
My heart began to pound.
Because Daniel had once told me he hated children.
He said having a baby would ruin his freedom.
He demanded that we postpone starting a family until his company became successful.
And now, standing outside my father’s estate, was his alleged mistress.
With a child.
I looked at Marcus.
“Does the girl look like Daniel?”
He hesitated.
May you like
Then answered carefully.
“There’s a resemblance.”
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