Chapter 4
Three months later, I sat at a small, wrought-iron table outside Trattoria Rossi, a quiet cafe hidden in the winding cobblestone streets of Florence.
The Tuscan sun was warm on my shoulders. I took a sip of my espresso, the rich, bitter liquid a sharp contrast to the sweet almond biscotti resting on my saucer.
On the table in front of me sat a thick manila envelope. Inside were the finalized divorce decrees, signed, sealed, and stamped by a judge in Chicago.
Gibson Consulting had been aggressively liquidated. With the evidence Trinity had so helpfully provided to save her own skin, the fraud case was airtight. The stolen funds from the escrow account had been recovered and returned to my corporate accounts.
Adam was currently residing in a federal holding facility, awaiting a trial that carried a mandatory minimum sentence of ten years. Trinity’s PR firm took a massive hit when the scandal broke in the trades, and last I heard, she had relocated to a secondary market to rebrand herself.
As for me? I had resigned from the airline.
I looked out over the piazza, watching the locals haggle at a flower market. For years, I had poured my energy, my brilliance, and my capital into building a man who was nothing more than a hollow facade. I had been the silent author of his success, hiding my light so he could shine.
Never again.
I opened my laptop, pulling up the branding materials for my new venture. A luxury hospitality communications firm. My firm. Under my name.
I closed the manila envelope, pushing the past aside, and typed the first words of my new company’s mission statement. The prose was elegant, concise, and high-value. Exactly like me.
May you like
For the first time in my life, I wasn’t managing someone else’s turbulence. The horizon belonged entirely to me, and the sky was completely clear.
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