Chapter 7 - The Aftermath
The news broke the following Monday.
CHARLOTTE WEALTH MANAGER INDICTED ON FEDERAL LAUNDERING CHARGES.
Grant was denied bail, deemed a flight risk due to his offshore accounts. The assets he had held over my head—the apartment, the cars, the bank accounts—were seized by the federal government pending the investigation.
Because I had formally filed for a restraining order and divorce the morning after the gala, and because Adrian’s legal team proved I was under severe domestic duress and isolated from all financial workings, I was cleared of any complicity.
I spent the next month living at the safehouse, slowly unlearning the instincts of a victim.
I stopped flinching when doors closed too loudly. I stopped apologizing for things that weren't my fault. I stopped wearing cardigans in ninety-degree weather.
Adrian stayed with me the entire time. He cooked breakfast, taught me self-defense techniques in the backyard, and sat with me when the nightmares woke me up in cold sweats.
"You don't have to stay, you know," I told him one evening as we sat on the porch, watching the sun set. "I know you have your own life. Your 'turbine' business."
May you like
Adrian chuckled, sipping his beer. "The turbines can wait. My sister trusted me to look out for you, and I failed for two years because I was too busy playing soldier halfway across the world. I'm not leaving until I know you're truly okay."
"I am okay," I said, and for the first time in a very long time, the words tasted like the truth.
