Chapter 7 - THE CLEAN BREAK
Six months after the trial.
The final decree of dissolution of marriage had been signed by the family court judge, officially bringing an end to the legal union between Serena Walsh and Wesley Walsh.
Under the terms of the final divorce settlement, Wesley received zero financial distribution from Serena’s personal assets or business holdings. Furthermore, the court ordered Wesley to repay the fifteen thousand dollars he had secretly funneled to his mother from the joint account, forcing him to set up a monthly wage garnishment that took twenty percent of his meager associate salary every month.
Serena sat on the wide outdoor terrace of her Oakridge estate, drinking a glass of fresh orange juice while looking over the lush green gardens.
The house had been completely transformed. The heavy, dark furniture that Beverly had insisted on keeping in the guest wing had been donated to a local women's shelter. The interior had been redecorated in warm, bright hues of ivory, gold, and light oak, filling the estate with energy and light.
Her assistant, a bright young woman named Maya, walked out onto the terrace carrying a tablet and a stack of mail.
"Good morning, Serena," Maya smiled. "The quarterly financial report for Walsh & Associates just came in. We experienced a forty percent increase in net revenue this quarter following the launch of the new global campaigns."
"That’s fantastic news, Maya," Serena smiled, taking the tablet. "How are the preparations for the foundation launch coming along?"
"Everything is on schedule," Maya replied. "The Serena Walsh Foundation for Independent Women will officially open its doors next month. We have already secured five safe-house properties across the state to assist women escaping financially abusive marriages."
Serena looked out over the gardens, feeling a deep sense of purpose. She had taken her pain, her humiliation, and her recovery, and turned it into a sanctuary for others who lacked the resources to fight back.
"Oh, and one more thing," Maya added cautiously, pulling a small white envelope from her stack. "This arrived in the mail today. It’s from the State Correctional Facility for Women."
Serena took the envelope. The return address bore Beverly Walsh’s inmate identification number.
Serena opened the letter and unfolded the yellow lined notebook paper inside.
Serena,
I am writing this from my cell. Wesley came to visit me last week. He lost his job at his firm after his boss found out about his resume fraud. He is living in a tiny studio apartment downtown, working as a night-shift retail clerk. He is broken, Serena. I am broken.
I spend my days thinking about what I did in your kitchen. I was bitter because I saw a young woman who had everything I never had—independence, wealth, respect, and strength. I wanted to make you feel small so I could feel big. I was wrong. I am so terribly sorry.
Please, tell Wesley to forgive himself. And if you can find it in your heart, please forgive an old woman who lost everything because of her own pride.
Beverly
May you like
Serena read the letter twice. She felt no anger, no satisfaction, and no desire for revenge.
She folded the paper neatly, walked over to the stone fireplace on the terrace, and dropped the letter onto the warm embers. She watched the yellow paper catch fire, curling into black ash that blew away in the soft morning breeze.
