Chapter 4 - The House That Love Didn't Build
Three days later,
the house was silent in a way it had never been before.
The movers Edwin had hired to clear out "my things" had been canceled by a single phone call from my attorney.
I sat in Dorothy’s old room,
the scent of lavender still clinging to the curtains.
This was the room where I had learned the true meaning of patience and the true depth of Edwin’s depravity.
I looked at the walls,
remembering the nights I spent here,
listening to his car pull into the driveway at 2:00 AM,
smelling of expensive gin and another woman’s perfume.
The phone on the bedside table rang.
It was my lawyer,
Marcus.
"Harriet,
the news is all over the financial journals,"
he said,
his voice sounding impressed.
"Apex Holdings is filing a civil suit to recover what’s left,
but since you moved the funds into that escrow account,
you’re being hailed as a whistleblower."
"And Edwin?"
I asked,
staring out the window at the garden he never helped me tend.
"He’s being held without bail,"
Marcus replied.
"Gillian turned state's evidence within two hours of being booked."
"She’s giving them everything—the hotels,
the gifts,
the dates of the transfers."
"She’s trying to get a plea deal by portraying herself as a victim of his manipulation."
I laughed,
a low,
genuine sound that felt good in my throat.
"She was never a victim,"
I said,
"She was a partner in his greed."
"Regardless,"
Marcus continued,
"the house is officially yours,
unencumbered."
"The 'sale' Edwin tried to finalize was fraudulent,
and the buyers have been refunded from his personal accounts."
"You are a wealthy woman,
Harriet."
"Wealthy in more ways than one,"
I whispered.
After the call ended,
I walked through the house,
touching the furniture that Edwin said I didn't appreciate.
I appreciated it just fine;
I just didn't appreciate the man who sat in it and belittled me.
I went to the basement and found the boxes of his things—the golf clubs,
the expensive suits,
the collections of watches.
I didn't burn them;
I wasn't that kind of woman.
Instead,
I called a local charity that helped men reintegrate into society after prison.
"I have some high-end items for donation,"
I told them.
"Everything must go today."
As the charity truck pulled away,
I felt a physical weight lift from the foundation of the home.
The "insignificant life" Edwin had tried to leave me with was now filled with space and light.
I spent the afternoon in the garden,
pulling the weeds that had grown while I was busy with the audit.
The soil was cool and damp under my fingernails,
a reminder that life goes on,
even after the worst storms.
I thought about the 2 million dollars.
I didn't want it.
I kept only what was rightfully mine from the inheritance and the years of my own lost wages.
The rest was returned to the employees of Apex Holdings whose pensions Edwin had risked.
I wasn't a thief;
I was a restorer of balance.
That evening,
I made myself a dinner of fresh pasta and wine,
sitting at the head of the long mahogany table.
There was no one to tell me I was eating too much.
May you like
There was no one to complain that the wine was too cheap.
There was only the sound of the crickets and the feeling of a door finally opening.
