Chapter 6: The Woman I Used to Be

The next morning, I woke before my alarm.

For a few seconds, I forgot everything.

Then I looked around the unfamiliar apartment and remembered.

The wedding.

The dress.

The house.

Grant.

I sat up slowly.

There was no reason to cry anymore.

I had already cried enough for twelve years.

I showered, dressed in a navy suit, and stood in front of the mirror.

The woman staring back at me looked different.

Not younger.

Not happier.

Just awake.

I had spent twelve years shrinking myself to fit into someone else’s idea of a family.

Today, I was going to find out what happened when I stopped shrinking.

My former boss was waiting for me at the old office.

When I walked through the glass doors, several people turned to look.

I recognized some of them immediately.

Others stared for a second longer before realizing who I was.

“June Hart?”

I turned.

My former colleague, Rachel, nearly dropped her coffee.

“Oh my God. You’re really back.”

I smiled.

“I am.”

She hugged me before I could react.

“We’ve missed you.”

Those four words nearly broke me.

Not because they were dramatic.

Because nobody in Savannah had said them when I left.

My former boss stepped out of his office.

“June.”

He shook my hand firmly.

“Welcome back.”

“Thank you.”

He studied me for a moment.

“You look like you finally remembered who you are.”

I laughed softly.

“Maybe I did.”

He handed me a folder.

“Your new position starts immediately. The team wants you leading the southern expansion project.”

I opened the folder.

The salary was almost double what I had been earning before I left Chicago.

There was also a signing bonus and a relocation allowance.

I stared at the numbers.

For years, I had believed sacrificing my career was the price of loving Grant.

Now I realized the price had only existed because I had agreed to pay it.

“I’ll take it,” I said.

My boss smiled.

“I was hoping you would.”

The first meeting lasted three hours.

For the first time in years, nobody interrupted me.

Nobody told me I was being too emotional.

Nobody asked me to put someone else’s needs first.

They listened.

They took notes.

They asked for my opinion.

And when I finished presenting, the room broke into applause.

I sat down and felt something unfamiliar settle inside my chest.

Pride.

Not pride in being useful to someone else.

Pride in myself.

During lunch, Rachel sat across from me.

“So,” she said carefully, “are you going to tell me what happened?”

I looked at her.

“My partner married someone else.”

Her fork stopped halfway to her mouth.

“Excuse me?”

I nodded.

“While I was on a business trip.”

Rachel stared at me for several seconds.

“June, that's horrible.”

“It was.”

“And you’re okay?”

I considered the question.

“Not yet.”

Then I smiled.

“But I will be.”

My phone vibrated.

I glanced at the screen.

A message from my lawyer.

The subject line made my stomach tighten.

Emergency Hearing Request.

I opened it immediately.

Grant had filed a response to the eviction notice.

He was claiming that he had been my domestic partner for twelve years and therefore had an equitable interest in the property.

I read the paragraph twice.

Then I laughed.

Not because it was funny.

Because I finally understood how desperate he was.

My lawyer had attached several documents.

Bank statements.

Mortgage records.

Property taxes.

Insurance payments.

Every major repair receipt.

All under my name.

Then there was something else.

A copy of Grant’s original financial disclosure from twelve years earlier.

He had listed the Savannah property as belonging entirely to me.

He had signed the document himself.

I forwarded it to my lawyer.

“Use this.”

His reply came quickly.

“This is excellent evidence.”

I closed the email.

Then Rachel looked over at me.

“Bad news?”

“No.”

I slipped my phone into my bag.

“Actually, it might be the first good news I’ve had in a while.”

That evening, I returned to my apartment and found a package waiting outside my door.

There was no return address.

I carried it inside and opened it carefully.

Inside was a small velvet box.

My breath caught.

I lifted the lid.

My mother's pearls were inside.

The same pearls that had been sewn into the wedding dress.

But there was a note underneath them.

I unfolded it.

June, I’m sorry.

I recognized the handwriting immediately.

It was Sadie's.

I sat down on the edge of my bed.

The note continued.

I didn't know they were going to burn the dress. I thought they were only cutting it because Piper wanted it to fit her.

I should have stopped them.

I know you probably hate me now.

I don't blame you.

But there is something you need to know.

Dad has been hiding something from you for a long time.

I read that sentence three times.

My heartbeat quickened.

Below it was one final line.

Ask him what happened to the money you gave him for the company.

I stared at the pearls in my palm.

The money I had invested in Grant's company had always been described as seed funding.

I had never demanded repayment.

I had trusted him.

But suddenly, a dozen small memories began connecting themselves.

The unexplained transfers.

The sudden expansion.

The new business partner he had never introduced properly.

The times he had told me not to worry about the accounting.

I opened my laptop.

For the first time, I wasn't looking at Grant's life as his partner.

I was looking at it as an investigator.

I pulled up every financial record I still had.

And within twenty minutes, I found something that made my hands go cold.

One of the companies receiving money from Grant's business was registered under a name I recognized.

Piper's maiden name.

I leaned back slowly.

Maybe the wedding wasn't the only betrayal.

Maybe I had only just discovered the beginning.