I turned toward him.
“So I gave him witnesses.”
His knees buckled. He grabbed the tablecloth, dragging silverware onto the floor. For one pathetic second, he stared at the feast like it might somehow rescue him.
“Amelia,” he whispered desperately. “Baby. We can fix this.”
I slowly stood.
The room became completely silent.
“You slapped me over coffee,” I said. “You forged my name for money. You laughed while I bled. There is nothing left here to fix.”
The officers arrested him before the duck even cooled.
Evelyn screamed until Margaret informed her the allowance she lived on—funded entirely from my account—had ended at midnight. After that, she collapsed back into her chair like someone had cut her strings.
Six months later, Daniel pleaded guilty to fraud. The assault charge remained permanently on his record. Victor accepted a deal. Evelyn moved into a tiny apartment financed by the son she had raised to behave exactly like his father—until he could no longer afford it.
As for me, I kept the house for thirty days.
Then I sold it.
On the first morning inside my new apartment overlooking the river, I brewed the wrong coffee on purpose. I drank it slowly, barefoot in the sunlight, with no bruises on my skin and no fear inside my home.
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