Chapter 10 - The Master of the House
That evening, after Cedric was fast asleep in his bedroom, I walked down to the main floor carrying a glass of red wine.
I opened the glass French doors leading out onto the rear patio overlooking the estate’s rolling green gardens. The night air was cool and refreshing, carrying the sweet scent of cedar and pine.
My phone chimed with a text message notification.
It was from Arthur Vance:
Divorce decree finalized by the Circuit Court judge today. Custody orders permanent. You are officially, completely free, Elisa. Congratulations.
I smiled softly, setting the phone down on the stone table.
I walked down the garden path until I reached the ancient oak tree near the edge of the property. I looked back at the grand brick house—its windows glowing with warm, golden light against the dark night sky.
Thirteen years ago, I had stepped into that house as a young bride, believing that my value lay in supporting a man’s dreams, fixing his mistakes, and quietly standing behind him while he took credit for our life.
I had let him believe he was the master of the house because I thought love required modesty.
But when the storm came, when the masks fell away, I didn't crumble. I didn't weep. I stood up, looked at the contract of my life, and rewrote every single clause in my own favor.
I took a slow sip of my wine, letting the quiet strength of the night wrap around me.
I was no longer just the woman who managed contracts.
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I was the owner of the land, the protector of my child, and the sole master of my own future.
And as I walked back toward the warm, glowing light of my home, I knew with absolute certainty that no one would ever tell me to pack a suitcase again.
