Chapter 6 - A New Chapter
Three months later, the legal dust had settled with the terrifying, clockwork efficiency of a tidal wave.
David Vance’s corporate holdings had been legally dissolved, his assets seized by the federal receivership, and his social standing permanently obliterated. His so-called girlfriend, Melissa, had vanished the moment the bank accounts were frozen, leaving him to face the fallout entirely alone in a rented studio apartment across town.
I didn't care. I hadn't looked back once.
With my newfound freedom and my restored financial independence, I did something I had dreamed of doing for a decade: I packed my bags, booked a first-class ticket to Paris, and spent three glorious weeks walking along the Seine, visiting art galleries, and drinking espresso in quiet sidewalk cafes without answering to a single soul.
When I returned to New York, I didn't move back into the suburbs. Instead, I officially launched Vance & Co. Consulting—a boutique financial strategy firm specializing in asset protection and corporate governance for women navigating high-net-worth life transitions.
On a bright Tuesday morning in December, I sat behind the sleek glass desk of my new downtown office overlooking the harbor, reviewing a portfolio proposal.
The office door opened without a knock, and Emily walked in, carrying two massive cups of caramel macchiato from our favorite bakery down the street. She wore a chic camel-colored trench coat, her face glowing with the effortless happiness of a newlywed who had finally found her footing in the world.
“Delivery for the CEO,” Emily announced brightly, setting a cup down on my desk before collapsing dramatically into the leather armchair opposite me.
“Thank you, partner,” I smiled, taking a sip of the hot coffee. “How is married life treating you?”
“Amazing,” Emily sighed happily. “Michael and I just signed the lease on our new loft in SoHo. And guess what? Dad called me yesterday.”
My fingers paused over my keyboard. I looked up. “Oh? What did he want?”
“Money, obviously,” Emily rolled her eyes, though there was no pain in her voice anymore—only the dull, distant indifference one feels toward a forgotten nuisance. “He’s living in some tiny apartment in Queens, working a consulting gig for minimum wage, and whining about how unfair the universe is. He asked if I could talk to you about releasing some of the escrow funds.”
I let out a quiet, amused breath. “And what did you tell him?”
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“I told him that the only thing I was willing to give him was a pamphlet for a local anger management seminar, and then I hung up,” Emily grinned fiercely. “We don't need him, Mom. We never did.”
“No,” I agreed softly, looking out the massive glass window toward the bright, endless expanse of the winter sky. “We never did.”
