Chapter 5 - Sanctuary
Downstairs, the wedding guests had been discreetly escorted off the property by estate security under the guise of an "unforeseen plumbing emergency." The multi-million-dollar reception hall was now eerily quiet, save for the gentle hum of the chandeliers.
Amanda was sitting alone at the head table, her gorgeous wedding dress pooling around her like a puddle of white foam. Her makeup was ruined by streaks of mascara, and her hands trembled as she stared blankly at her empty wine glass.
I walked up and stood before her. She didn’t look up.
“Marcus is arrested,” I said quietly.
Amanda flinched, her breath catching in her throat. “He… he told you everything?”
“He told me enough to confirm what I already knew,” I replied, pulling up a chair and sitting opposite her. “The burner phone, the forged bank documents, the plan to push my daughter away. Amanda, why? I gave you everything. My heart, my home, my trust.”
Amanda finally raised her head. Her eyes were bloodshot, filled with a bitter, defensive rage. “You gave me a life, Ethan, but you never gave me power. You were always in control. Everything was yours—the house, the company, the status. Marcus showed me how I could have it all for myself. We were going to leave you penniless and broken.”
Listening to her cold words, any remaining warmth I felt for her evaporated completely. The woman I thought I knew had never existed. She was a ghost crafted out of ambition and greed.
“You’ll be facing federal charges right alongside him,” I said, standing up. “My lawyers will make sure you never see a dime of my wealth, and restraining orders will ensure you never come within a thousand yards of Sophie or me again.”
As I turned away, Amanda let out a broken, desperate sob, but I didn't look back.
I walked down the private corridor to the secure wing where Sophie was waiting. When I opened the door, my little girl was sitting on the sofa, coloring in a picture book with one of the estate housekeepers.
When she saw me, her face lit up. She dropped her crayons and ran across the room, wrapping her small arms tightly around my legs.
“Daddy? Are the bad people gone?” she asked softly.
May you like
I picked her up, burying my face in her soft hair, feeling a profound wave of relief wash over me.
“Yes, baby girl,” I whispered, kissing her forehead. “The bad people are gone. And we are safe now. Let’s go home.”
