Chapter 6 - The Aftermath
The drive home in David’s beat-up, ten-year-old sedan was the most peaceful journey Clara had experienced in years.
Lily was asleep in the backseat, her small hands still clutching the daisy ribbon she had taken from her hair.
Clara rested her head against the passenger side window, watching the streetlights blur into streaks of gold.
“I’m sorry I wasn't there to stop it sooner,” David said softly, keeping his eyes on the dark road.
Clara reached across the center console and placed her hand over his.
“You came right when we needed you, David,” she smiled, feeling a deep, profound sense of relief washing over her tired bones.
For the first time since they had married, Clara did not feel like an outsider intruding on a wealthy dynasty.
Eleanor had publicly validated her sacrifices, and the heavy burden of shame she had carried for years was finally gone.
When they pulled into the driveway of their small, rented apartment, David carried a sleeping Lily inside.
Clara went into the kitchen to pour a glass of water, but she noticed a thick, cream-colored envelope sitting on the counter.
It had Eleanor’s elegant handwriting on the front.
Clara opened it with trembling fingers, pulling out a heavy, embossed letter and a shiny brass key.
David walked into the kitchen, his brow furrowing in confusion when he saw the tears streaming down Clara’s face.
“What is it?” he asked, rushing to her side.
Clara handed him the letter, unable to form the words.
May you like
Eleanor had purchased a beautiful, modest three-bedroom home in a quiet, safe neighborhood, fully paid off in Clara’s name.
The letter simply read: “For the woman who held my grandson’s world together. You will never be treated like a servant again.”
