Her face was a mask of composure, but a close observer might have noticed the slight tremor in her hands. Fifteen years of marriage, over in thirty minutes. Fifteen years of believing, loving, forgiving his affairs, and enduring his quiet humiliations. Now, it was done.
Michael was already making plans for the evening. He was going to celebrate his victory at a high-end steakhouse with Ashley, his girlfriend of three years, who had been waiting for this day. Now the coast was clear. He had all the assets and could start his new life. The condo, the lake house, the savings—it all made him feel like a winner.
As Eleanor walked out of the courtroom, she glanced back at Michael. He was animatedly telling a story to his lawyer, gesturing and laughing. That man had been her husband, the man she had planned to grow old with. Now he was celebrating her defeat like a child with a new toy.
In the courthouse corridor, Eleanor took out her phone and typed a short text: “It’s done. See you tomorrow at ten.” She put the phone away and walked toward the exit. Her footsteps echoed in the empty hall, while behind her, Michael’s triumphant laughter still lingered. Outside, a light drizzle had started.
Eleanor turned up the collar of her coat and walked toward the light rail station. She didn’t look back at the building where she had just lost everything she had built over a decade and a half. But there was no despair in her eyes, only a strange resolve, something that looked almost like anticipation. “The Capital Grille” was located right across from the courthouse, its quiet booths a frequent meeting spot for lawyers and their clients.
Eleanor chose a table by the window, with a clear view of the gray building where her old life had just ended. She ordered a coffee and waited, glancing at her watch. At two-thirty, an older gentleman in a conservative suit, carrying a leather briefcase, walked in. Mr. Peterson had been an estate lawyer for thirty years and had seen it all.
He recognized Eleanor from a photograph her father had shown him and approached the table. “Eleanor Miller? I’m Mr. Peterson. We had an appointment.” She nodded and gestured to the empty chair. The lawyer sat, pulled a thick folder from his briefcase, and placed it on the table between them.
“Your father passed away a week ago from a heart attack. The service has already been held. I handled the arrangements according to his will.” Eleanor listened without emotion. Her relationship with her father had been strained for years, and his death wasn’t a shock. “He left you everything. His construction supply company, ‘Miller & Sons.’ Seven locations in the Charlotte area. The total value of the assets is around five million dollars.”
Eleanor took the documents and leafed through them. Numbers, seals, signatures—it all looked official and substantial. “There’s something else,” the lawyer said, producing a sealed envelope. “A letter your father wrote the day before he died. He asked me to deliver it to you personally.”
Eleanor took the envelope. Her fingers trembled slightly as she opened it. Her father’s handwriting was familiar, though it had grown shakier. “My dear girl, forgive me for these years of silence. I know you thought I turned my back on you after you got married. But the truth is, Michael was blackmailing me.”
Eleanor looked up from the letter, out the window at the rain. The lawyer waited patiently, sipping his tea. “Three years ago, your husband came to my office. He said he knew about a bad deal I made early in my career, a mistake that could ruin my reputation. He demanded I cut off all contact with you. He threatened that if I didn’t, he would make sure you suffered right along with me.”
Eleanor’s lips tightened as she read on. So her father hadn’t abandoned her by choice. “I was a coward, Ellie. I was scared for my business, for the employees who would lose their jobs. But most of all, I was terrified Michael would follow through on his threats and hurt you. Now that the doctors have told me the truth about my condition, I see it clearly. I should have fought. I should have protected you from that man.”
At the end of the letter, her father asked for her forgiveness and wrote that he had always loved her. Eleanor folded the letter and put it in her purse. The lawyer maintained a delicate silence, giving her a moment. “It will take a few days to process the inheritance. I’ll prepare all the documents; you’ll just need to sign.”
She nodded. “Fine. But please keep this confidential for now.” The lawyer assured her he would and left, leaving Eleanor alone with her thoughts. Half an hour later, Susan, Eleanor’s best friend from college, walked into the restaurant.
Susan worked in banking and was known for her practical, no-nonsense approach to life. “How did court go?” she asked, sliding into the booth. “Everything according to plan,” Eleanor replied. Susan pulled a folder from her bag. “Then here’s what I found in the system.”
The bank statements showed that two years ago, three large loans had been taken out in Eleanor’s name from different banks. The total amount was nearly $800,000. The money had then been transferred to various shell companies connected to Michael’s business. “Look here,” Susan said, pointing to the transaction dates. “All the transfers were made within a week. Highly suspicious for normal business operations.”
“Remember when Michael asked me to sign some tax papers?”
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