Chapter 3: Asset Reclamation

I went back to my room and called my assistant, Hannah, to check my assets. My voice was steady—businesslike. Hannah had been with me since college; she knew when to ask questions and when not to.

"Ma’am, your assets are divided into three parts: one I keep, the other two were given to Carter and Brooke."

I reviewed the stack of paperwork, investment account statements, and property deeds, all blurring together under the lamp’s glow.

When I married Mark Harris, he was a broke law student, but my family never looked down on him. On my wedding day, the line of cars stretched for blocks and the gifts filled the reception hall. There are still newspaper clippings in my scrapbook—Mark’s shy smile, my mother’s proud tears.

Seven years have passed. Though some has been spent, there’s still enough for the Harris family to live comfortably for generations. Every dollar felt heavier now, the weight of a lifetime’s expectations pressing down on me.

I handed the list to Hannah.

"According to what’s normal for kids in families like ours, list the extra portions Carter and Brooke have. I want to reclaim them."

I’m about to leave the Harris family. The kids are still young; with so much property, who knows if Dana Lane will take it from them? I didn’t trust her—not with my mother’s jewelry, not with the legacy I’d built for my children.

"In the past, I had at least a dozen staff. Count who’s on contract and ask who’s willing to leave with me."

Hannah looked a little surprised. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, searching my face for some sign I’d change my mind.

"Ma’am, are you really making plans to leave?"

I smiled faintly and took her hand. The gesture was gentle, but final.

"I’m leaving here. I want to see the country, to see the world." My voice softened, a longing for freedom I hadn’t felt in years. I pictured myself on a highway, windows down, Springsteen on the radio.

Hannah squeezed my hand tightly. Her loyalty was the one solid thing left.

"Wherever you go, I’ll go."

Just then, the door opened quietly, and we both fell silent. The click of the doorknob sounded loud in the hush of the room.

I immediately stood up and had Hannah put away the asset list. My heart was racing as Mark entered.

The elegant Councilman walked in, campaign smile firmly in place—the one that won him votes at every town hall.

"I brought you some pastries from Maple Grove Bakery."

Mark set the box on the table. When I opened it, a wave of bitter amusement washed over me.

They were leftovers, boxed up from lunch with the kids and Dana Lane. I recognized the half-eaten lemon tart—Brooke’s favorite.

Mark didn’t notice my expression.

"I got held up by colleagues on the way back. It’s probably cold now. If you don’t want it, just toss it."

Before, even a small gesture from him would have made me happy. Even leftovers, I would’ve eaten gladly for his sake. I remembered all the nights I waited up, hoping he’d bring anything just for me.

"Since you say it’s cold, Hannah, throw it out."

Mark was startled, his face darkening, but he said nothing. The silence between us was a canyon.

He sat with me for a while.

"You went to see Aunt Carol today? Why didn’t you let me go with you?"

"You took Carter and Brooke out, so I took the chance to talk with Aunt."

Mark sighed deeply. "The kids are growing up. You do everything yourself—I’m afraid you’ll wear yourself out. At least they like their tutor."

I said nothing, just lowered my head to sip coffee. The bitterness matched the taste in my mouth.

Mark, finding nothing more to say, excused himself with work and left quickly. The door clicked shut behind him, leaving the room colder than before.