Chapter 9 - New Roots
Two weeks after the incident at the Harbor View Country Club, the autumn air began to crisp, carrying the golden scent of falling leaves and woodsmoke through the city streets.
Our shop was thriving more than it ever had in the five years since I opened its doors. Deliveries were up by three hundred percent, corporate contracts were pouring in, and Chloe had finally convinced me to hire two new assistant florists to keep up with the workload.
On a quiet Thursday afternoon, as I was sweeping up stray eucalyptus leaves near the front entrance, the shop bell chimed merrily.
I looked up, expecting another bride wanting a consultation or a local reporter trying to sneak in for a quote.
Instead, standing in the doorway was a tall, elegant woman in a tailored camel-wool coat.
Victoria Sterling.
She looked tired, dark circles shadowed beneath her eyes beneath her immaculate styling, but her posture was as proud and unyielding as ever. She pushed the glass door open and stepped inside, taking in the sea of colorful blooms surrounding us.
"Meredith," she said quietly, pausing by a display of potted orchids.
I set the broom down against the counter, wiping my hands on my apron. "Victoria. I didn't expect to see you here."
"I know," Victoria replied, offering a thin, dry smile. "I imagine my family’s name isn't exactly welcomed in this shop after everything that happened."
"Your family didn't fake a death or lie to me," I said evenly, gesturing toward a pair of wooden chairs by the window. "Would you like to sit down?"
Victoria nodded gratefully and took a seat. I walked over to the back counter and poured two cups of hot herbal tea from the electric kettle, bringing them over and setting one down in front of her.
"Thank you," she murmured, wrapping her hands around the warm ceramic mug. She stared down into the amber liquid for a long moment before looking up at me. "I wanted to come by in person. To apologize."
I blinked in surprise. "Apologize? For what, Victoria? You were the victim of his fraud just as much as I was—probably more, considering the legal mess he dragged your family into."
"For walking into that wedding thinking I was the only one who mattered," Victoria said softly, her voice carrying a rare note of genuine vulnerability. "When you stood up on that lawn and exposed him... you saved me from a lifetime of living with a magnificent liar. And looking back, I realize how much worse your pain was than mine. You mourned a ghost for three months while he was sitting in a Vermont cabin laughing at your grief."
"It was brutal," I admitted honestly, feeling a slight pang in my chest, though the sharp edge of it had dulled into a dull ache. "Not a day goes by yet where I don't think about it. But... it's getting easier."
"Good," Victoria said firmly. She reached into her leather handbag and pulled out a thick manila envelope, placing it neatly on the wooden table between us. "My father’s legal team finished liquidating what was left of Adrian’s personal holdings before the federal asset seizure went through. Because you were listed as a secondary beneficiary on his primary personal trust before the 'accident'—a detail his mother tried to bury in the probate court—there was a legal settlement recovered on your behalf."
I stared at the envelope, hesitant to touch it. "What is this?"
"It’s restitution," Victoria said quietly. "Seventy-five thousand dollars. Not hush money like the pittance he offered you in that suite, but legally mandated compensation for emotional damages and fraudulent abandonment. It’s yours, Meredith. Every cent."
I looked from the envelope up into Victoria's eyes. There was no condescension there anymore—only a shared, hard-earned understanding between two women who had refused to be pawns in a coward's game.
"Thank you, Victoria," I said softly, reaching out and resting my hand over the envelope.
May you like
"Thank you, Meredith," she replied, standing up and smoothing down her coat. She turned toward the door, then paused, looking back over her shoulder with a faint, genuine smile. "By the way... if I ever decide to get married again—properly, this time—you’re the only florist I’m calling."
"You've got a deal," I smiled.
