Chapter 4

The next morning, the atmosphere in the Vanderbilt mansion was charged.

Ethan was in a rage.

Not about me, not directly.

His grandfather, the formidable Vanderbilt patriarch, had apparently frozen one of Ethan's trust fund accounts.

A temporary measure, a rap on the knuckles for some recent reckless spending spree Ethan had indulged in for Brittany.

Ethan, of course, somehow twisted it to be my fault.

"This is because of the divorce, isn't it?" he seethed, storming into the guesthouse where I was putting the last of my few remaining personal items into a small suitcase.

"You've been whining to someone, making me look bad. Grandfather never liked you."

"I haven't spoken to your grandfather in years, Ethan," I said, my voice flat.

I was done engaging with his delusions.

"Liar!"

He grabbed my arm, his fingers bruising.

"You're always scheming, always trying to undermine me."

He saw my suitcase.

"And where do you think you're going with that?"

"I'm leaving, Ethan. As per your instructions."

His face darkened.

"You leave when I say you leave. And not a moment before."

He seemed to relish this last opportunity to exert control.

He shoved me, hard.

I stumbled back, hitting the wall.

"You think you can just walk out of here?" he sneered.

He kicked my suitcase.

It flew open, spilling its meager contents – a few clothes, some books, the worn teddy bear I'd had since childhood.

He picked up the bear, a cruel smile playing on his lips.

"What's this? Still playing with dolls, Sarah?"

He ripped its head off.

A choked sound escaped me.

It was just a toy, but it felt like another piece of me being destroyed.

He then grabbed a framed photo from the nightstand – me and my parents, smiling, outside the bakery.

He smashed it on the floor, glass shattering.

"Sentimental rubbish," he spat.

He advanced on me, and for a moment, I thought he would hit me.

His eyes were wild.

But then his phone rang.

He glanced at it.

Brittany.

His expression softened, the rage momentarily forgotten.

"I have to go," he said, his voice still tight.

"Don't think this is over."

He gave the scattered contents of my suitcase one last contemptuous kick and stalked out.

I sank to the floor, surrounded by the wreckage of my few treasured possessions.

Tears welled, but I blinked them back.

Not now.

There was no time for tears.

I carefully picked up the pieces of the photo, my fingers tracing my parents' smiling faces.

I retrieved the headless bear.

These things were broken, but I wasn't.

Not anymore.

I repacked what I could into a shopping bag.

The vital envelope with the share certificates and prenup was secure in my purse.

At 3:30 PM, a discreet taxi James had arranged picked me up from a side street, far from the Vanderbilt gates.

As we drove away, I didn't look back.

City Hall was a grand, old building, surprisingly quiet on a weekday afternoon.

James was waiting for me on the steps, just as he'd promised.

He looked older, more serious than I remembered, but his eyes, when they met mine, were kind.

So incredibly kind.

He took my hand.

"Are you ready, Sarah?"

I nodded, a small, tremulous smile finding its way to my lips.

"Yes, James. I'm ready."

We walked inside, towards a future Ethan Vanderbilt couldn't even imagine.