Chapter 5 - The Exit
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I picked up the heavy gift box. It was weighty, but certainly not with property papers. The weight came from the past I was finally, irrevocably taking back.
Inside the box were framed, sentimental family photographs, a set of old brass keys from my grandmother’s very first apartment, and a personal letter to Elodie. The letter explained gently that the waterfront condo would remain mine, but that I had securely opened an education trust for her future children in her name only—legally protected from all Arden access or interference.
The box also contained one highly symbolic item that Genevieve would intimately understand later when they opened it: a clear photocopy of the original property deed, stamped heavily in bright red ink across every single page with the words NOT TRANSFERABLE.
I turned my back on the table and faced the grand ballroom doors.
Genevieve’s voice sharpened behind me, ringing out over the quiet room. “If you leave now, Isla, do not ever expect this family to welcome you back.”
I stopped in my tracks.
I looked slowly over my shoulder at the head table, at my husband’s mistress sitting comfortably in my chair, at my mother-in-law standing like a furious queen in a borrowed kingdom, and at the relatives who had watched the abuse for years and politely called my silence politeness.
“That is the very first generous offer you’ve made all night, Genevieve,” I said clearly.
Then, I walked out.
Behind me, the string music stumbled awkwardly, then resumed in a weak, nervous, disjointed rhythm. No one followed me at first. That realization hurt significantly less than I expected it to.
Outside, walking down the long, cold stone corridor of the estate, I only heard the sound of my own breathing, slow and deeply controlled.
My phone began buzzing frantically in my clutch before I even reached the gravel driveway. Adrian. Adrian again. Genevieve. Adrian. An unknown number—Bianca, probably.
May you like
Then, a single text message from Elodie: I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t know she moved your seat until tonight.
I stood quietly under the large portico in the freezing night air, clutching the heavy gift box in my arms, and realized something almost profoundly peaceful: this was not the night my marriage ended. This was simply the night they finally performed its death in public.
