Chapter 7 - THE NURSERY AT MIDNIGHT
Fifty miles away, inside a warm, brightly lit apartment overlooking the Richmond skyline, the city lights flickered like distant stars against the velvet black of the night sky.
The apartment was modest compared to the sprawling stone mansion in the suburbs, but it smelled of fresh lavender and quiet safety.
In the corner of the master bedroom, a white bassinet sat bathed in the soft, amber glow of a nightlight. Inside, Maisie slept soundly, her tiny chest rising and falling in steady, rhythmic breaths, wrapped in the softest flannel blanket her grandmother had ever knit.
Sitting at a mahogany writing desk by the window, Audrey adjusted her reading glasses and turned the final page of a corporate audit report.
A soft knock sounded at the bedroom door, and Arthur Vance stepped quietly into the room, holding two steaming mugs of chamomile tea.
“You’re still awake,” Arthur observed softly, setting one of the mugs down on the desk beside her laptop. “It’s past midnight, Audrey. The baby is asleep, and the locks on the estate were changed an hour ago as requested.”
Audrey took the mug, wrapping her hands around the warm ceramic to chase away the lingering chill of the day. She looked up at her uncle, a faint, tired smile touching her lips.
“I couldn't sleep, Uncle Arthur,” she admitted, her gaze wandering back toward the bassinet. “For six years, I kept telling myself that if I just worked a little harder, if I smiled a little wider, if I ignored the late-night texts and the cold distance in his eyes, I could make a real family out of that house. I thought patience was a virtue.”
Arthur pulled up a chair beside the desk and sat down, his gray eyes filled with quiet pride. “Patience is a virtue when you’re planting a garden, my dear. But when you’re living with a snake, patience is just a slow form of suicide.”
Audrey laughed softly, taking a sip of the tea. “Did Derek try to call?”
“Three times,” Arthur replied smoothly. “The first time, he threatened to call the police for illegal eviction. The second time, he begged me to intercede with you so he wouldn't lose his partnership at the firm. The third time, he simply hung up when he realized I was billing him five hundred dollars an hour just to listen to him hyperventilate.”
Audrey set her mug down on the blotter. She reached into her pocket and pulled out the tarnished silver wedding band Derek had slipped onto her finger six years ago at a lavish chapel in Charlottesville—the same ring she had quietly removed while packing her suitcase in the nursery.
She placed it in the center of the desk, right beside Arthur’s legal briefcase.
“I don't want his money, Uncle Arthur,” Audrey said, her voice steady and clear. “I don't want the Halston name, and I don't want a single cent of the firm’s retained earnings.”
Arthur raised an eyebrow. “You realize those assets total nearly eight million dollars, legally speaking?”
“Let the creditors have them,” Audrey said calmly. “Let the banks foreclose on the mansion. Let Gloria sue him for breach of promise. I want a clean, absolute break. Sole custody of Maisie, my maiden name restored on all documents, and a restraining order that keeps Derek and his mother fifty yards away from my daughter for the rest of their natural lives.”
Arthur smiled—a genuine, warm smile that reached his eyes. “Done. The papers will be filed at the Henrico County courthouse before the sun comes up.”
Audrey stood up from the desk, walked over to the bassinet, and gently brushed a stray lock of dark hair away from Maisie’s forehead. The baby stirred, letting out a soft little sigh before settling back into her deep, dreamless sleep.
May you like
Audrey rested her hand against her daughter’s back, feeling the steady, powerful thrum of new life.
She wasn't Derek Halston’s wife anymore. She was Maisie’s mother. And for the first time in six years, the future looked entirely, beautifully her own.
