Chapter 9 - The Legacy of Choice
My phone rang. It was Julian.
"Hey," his warm voice filled the line. "Are you still stuck at the office?"
"Just finishing up a few files," I smiled, looking at the framed photograph on my desk—a picture of Julian and me laughing together at a fundraiser gala last month.
"I'm downstairs in the lobby," Julian said. "I brought dinner from that little Italian place you love. And before you ask—no, I don't want to talk about medical budgets or real estate leases tonight."
"Oh? What do you want to talk about?" I teased, picking up my handbag.
"About us," Julian said gently. "About the future."
I stepped into the elevator, watching the mirrored walls reflect a woman who was light-years away from the heartbroken wife who had stood on the upper level of Terminal C at DFW Airport.
That woman had been betrayed, lied to, and humiliated by the people she trusted most. But she hadn't allowed that pain to break her. She had used it as fuel to tear down a house of lies and build an empire of truth.
When the elevator doors opened on the ground floor, Julian was standing there, holding a box of fresh pasta and two red roses, his face lighting up the moment he saw me.
"Ready to go?" he asked, offering me his arm.
May you like
I slid my arm through his—not with ownership or possession, but with mutual trust and respect.
"Ready," I said.
