Chapter 13
The media turned on the Vances with hungry speed.
One day, Eleanor was a philanthropist.
The next, she was the face of corruption.
People who had toasted her now claimed they barely knew her.
Guests from the dinner sent me messages.
I’m so sorry.
I had no idea.
You were so brave.
I deleted most of them.
Bravery would have been speaking when Julian called me lucky to have him.
Bravery would have been not laughing when the projector showed the truth.
Still, some surprised me.
Aunt Brenda arrived at my door with soup and shame.
“I laughed at things I should have questioned,” she said.
I stood in the doorway.
“You did.”
She swallowed.
“I was afraid of Eleanor.”
“So was everyone.”
“That doesn’t excuse me.”
“No.”
She nodded.
“I know.”
I let her leave the soup.
Not forgiveness.
Not yet.
But a beginning.
The divorce moved fast after Julian’s criminal charges.
Daniel secured the house.
The cabin land.
My company shares.
The forged loans were frozen.
Federal prosecutors seized Vance assets tied to the fraud.
Marcus and I visited Dad’s cabin after repairs began.
The smoke smell still clung to the walls.
I stood in the doorway and cried for the first time since dinner night.
Not elegant tears.
Ugly ones.
Marcus held me.
“We got them,” he said.
“Dad still died.”
“I know.”
“Mom died grieving him.”
“I know.”
The lake was still.
Cruelly beautiful.
Marcus opened the old toolbox and found something the intruders missed.
A small carved blue boat.
Dad had made it for me when I was eight.
My name was carved underneath.
Khloe.
I held it against my chest.
May you like
For the first time, revenge felt too small.
I wanted restoration.
