CHAPTER 4: The Homecoming
CHAPTER 4: The Homecoming
The Hartwell estate was a fortress of ivy-covered stone and iron gates, sitting on a cliff overlooking the Atlantic. It was a place I hadn't stepped foot in for years, a place where I was once told that "marrying for love" was a weakness.
As I walked into the grand foyer, the portraits of my ancestors seemed to stare down at me—not with judgment, but with a strange, lingering sense of expectation. My father had been a cold man, but he was a man who understood value. He had taught me that a Hartwell never loses; they just wait for the right moment to reclaim the board.
My lawyer, a sharp-witted woman named Elena, was waiting in the study. She stood up, a rare, genuine smile appearing on her face.
"Clara. You look… free."
"I am," I replied, sitting in the high-backed velvet chair. "Tell me, Elena. How much is left?"
Elena laid out a stack of documents. "After we finalize the dissolution of the assets and claw back the misappropriated funds from Richard’s offshore shell companies? You’ll be the wealthiest woman in the city, with total control over the Hartwell holdings. He’ll be left with his reputation—which, I might add, is currently being shredded by the press."
"And the divorce?"
"He’s fighting it. He’s claiming you’re not in your right mind, citing your pregnancy and 'emotional instability.' He wants to drag you through a custody battle before the child is even born."
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I looked at the documents, then at the window where the ocean raged against the cliffs. "He thinks he can use a child as a weapon. He still thinks he’s playing against the version of me he created."
I picked up a pen. "Let him fight, Elena. Let him spend every cent he has left on a war he’s already lost. I want him to know that he didn't just lose his wife. He lost his future."
