Chapter 9 - The Harbor View
In late September, exactly one year after the night she had received the livestream from St. Gabriel’s, Maeve stood on the private balcony of the Ashland Place estate, holding a crystal glass of sparkling water.
The air was cooler now, carrying the crisp, salted breeze of an approaching autumn. Below her in the courtyard, Iris was chasing a golden retriever puppy—a rescue dog they had adopted together—while her father sat in a wicker rocking chair, reading the morning paper and laughing at the puppy's antics.
Her phone buzzed on the iron bistro table.
It was an email notification from the Palmetto Heritage Foundation. The board of directors had unanimously voted to award Maeve Ellison the annual Preservationist of the Year Medal for her work in restoring the historic downtown carriage houses.
May you like
She smiled, locking her phone and leaving it on the table.
She didn't need to check messages, monitor social media, or look over her shoulder anymore. The ghosts of the Ellison family’s arrogance had been exorcised, not with anger or public screaming, but with cold facts, unyielding discipline, and the absolute refusal to be erased.
