Chapter 6 - THE GHOSTS OF CRESTVIEW
A week had passed since the day at the courthouse,
and Crestview felt like a different town.
The gossip had spread like a summer wildfire through the suburban streets.
Everyone knew about the "Holland Heist,"
as the local papers called it.
I spent most of my time in the nursery,
painting the walls a soft,
warm yellow.
It was a peaceful task,
one that allowed me to focus on the future instead of the wreckage.
My phone rang constantly,
mostly friends who had vanished when the affair began,
now calling to offer their "support."
I didn't answer.
I knew who my real friends were.
The only person I spoke to was Marcus,
my attorney.
He was busy finalizing the transfer of the firm's assets.
"Aiden tried to contest the freezing of the accounts,"
Marcus told me over the phone.
"The judge shot him down in thirty seconds."
"He's currently living in a motel on the edge of town."
I felt a brief flash of something—not pity,
but a cold awareness of how far he had fallen.
He had gone from a million-dollar home to a twenty-dollar-a-night room.
All for a woman who didn't even like him without his checkbook.
"And Madeline?"
I asked.
"She's been served with a lawsuit for corporate fraud,"
Marcus replied.
"The firm's board of directors wants their pound of flesh."
"She's likely looking at prison time if she can't pay back the bonuses she approved for herself."
I hung up the phone,
staring out the window at the garden.
The flowers were starting to bloom,
vibrant and resilient.
They didn't care about court orders or cheating husbands.
They just did what they were meant to do—they grew.
I realized then that the biggest mistake Aiden and Madeline made wasn't the affair.
It was assuming that I was a bystander in my own life.
They thought because I was quiet,
I was blind.
They thought because I was pregnant,
I was helpless.
But silence is a powerful tool for a woman who knows how to listen.
And pregnancy isn't a weakness;
it's a source of primal,
unyielding strength.
I walked to the kitchen and poured myself a glass of cold water.
The house was quiet,
but for the first time in years,
May you like
it didn't feel lonely.
It felt like home.
