Chapter 11 - A Cradle of Gold
Six months later.
The air in the new apartment was warm and sweet, smelling of baby powder and chamomile. The apartment was a beautiful loft overlooking the river, filled with light and completely devoid of any memories of my past life.
I sat in the rocking chair, gently cradling my daughter, Clara. She had my eyes, my nose, and a fierce, stubborn spirit that I already recognized.
The divorce had been finalized three weeks ago.
Thanks to the mountain of evidence, Damon had been completely stripped of his assets. The court had awarded me sole physical custody, the house proceeds, and a substantial monthly child-support payment that was locked into a trust fund for Clara's education.
Damon’s reputation was ruined. The video had leaked to a few key members of his firm, and he had been quietly asked to resign. He was now living in a tiny apartment on the edge of the city, working a low-level job.
Claire had disappeared entirely. After Owen exposed her to her employers and her family, she had moved back to her small hometown in another state, disgraced and broke.
Owen and I had met for coffee a month ago. He was healing, slowly. We didn't talk about the betrayal. We talked about the future.
I looked down at Clara. She blinked up at me, her tiny fingers wrapping around my thumb.
"We did it, sweet girl," I whispered, pressing a kiss to her soft forehead.
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The nursery in this new home was perfect. The crib was sturdy, built by hands that loved her, and the walls were a beautiful, bright white, ready to be filled with whatever colors she chose.
We were safe. We were free. And the future was ours to build.
