Chapter 6 - THE WOMAN WHO FINALLY CHOSE HERSELF
The divorce proceedings lasted months.
Not because I wanted them to.
Because the financial investigation kept uncovering more.
Harrington Construction survived.
Barely.
Several divisions were sold.
Some employees lost jobs.
Others were transferred.
Donald cooperated with investigators.
Beatrice eventually admitted she had known about several questionable transfers.
She wasn't charged with everything her husband was accused of, but she faced serious scrutiny and legal consequences.
Zachary's case was separate.
The assault at my birthday party had been recorded from multiple angles.
The evidence was undeniable.
The videos became part of the case.
But I never watched them.
I didn't need to.
I remembered every second.
One afternoon, Xavier came to my apartment.
“You're free.”
I stared at him.
“What?”
“The divorce is final.”
I didn't react.
For a moment, I simply sat there.
Then I laughed.
A small laugh.
Almost disbelieving.
“I'm divorced.”
Xavier smiled.
“You're free.”
I looked toward the window.
The city was bright outside.
People walked along the sidewalks.
Cars moved through traffic.
Life continued.
And suddenly I realized how strange it felt to make decisions without asking whether someone else would approve.
I could choose where to live.
What to wear.
Who to invite.
Where to travel.
What to eat.
Whom to trust.
I could even choose whether to keep using the Harrington name.
I chose not to.
My legal name became Genevieve Laurent again.
My mother's maiden name.
My father's name.
Mine.
A month later, I visited my childhood home.
The garden was overgrown.
I spent the afternoon cleaning it.
Then I found my father's old workbench.
Underneath it was a small wooden box.
Inside was a key.
And a note.
The note contained an address.
I called Lucas.
He investigated.
The address belonged to a small building outside the city.
My father had owned it.
Nobody knew.
We went there together.
Inside were boxes.
Business records.
Photographs.
Letters.
And one final document.
A trust.
My father had created it years before his death.
It contained assets worth several million dollars.
I stared at the papers.
“Why didn't he tell us?”
Jonathan looked at me.
“Maybe he wanted you to have something that belonged to you without anyone knowing.”
I cried.
Not because of the money.
Because my father had somehow continued protecting me even after he was gone.
I didn't keep everything.
I created a foundation in his name.
A portion went toward domestic violence shelters.
Another supported women rebuilding their lives after abusive relationships.
The rest was divided among my brothers and me.
It felt right.
Then, unexpectedly, Beatrice contacted me.
She asked to meet.
I almost refused.
But I went.
She looked smaller than I remembered.
Without the mansion.
Without the social events.
Without the army of people surrounding her.
She looked like an ordinary older woman.
“I was cruel to you,” she said.
“Yes.”
“I thought you were beneath us.”
“Yes.”
“I was wrong.”
I studied her.
“Why are you telling me?”
“Because I lost my family.”
I shook my head.
“You didn't lose your family because of me.”
She looked down.
“We lost it because of what we did.”
That answer mattered.
For the first time, she wasn't blaming someone else.
She wasn't blaming me.
She wasn't blaming Bianca.
She wasn't blaming my brothers.
She was accepting responsibility.
“I can't forgive everything yet,” I said.
“I understand.”
“But I don't want to hate you.”
She nodded.
We sat quietly.
Then she asked,
“Do you think Zachary will ever change?”
I looked at her.
“I don't know.”
And I didn't.
I wasn't going to pretend I did.
Some people changed.
Some didn't.
That wasn't my responsibility anymore.
My responsibility was myself.
My healing.
My future.
May you like
My life.
And for the first time, I was building one.
