Chapter 6 - The Author of Her Own Life
Six months later, the dust had finally settled. The divorce of Lucas and Margot Stephens was the scandal of Pine Ridge. It turned out Lucas was not just hiding money from his wife; he had been defrauding his clients, moving their funds into his offshore accounts. Margot’s forensic accountant had uncovered all of it, and the authorities had been very grateful for the neatly organized files she provided. Lucas was no longer wearing perfectly tailored Italian suits. He was currently awaiting trial, his assets seized, his reputation completely destroyed. Even his business partner, David, had turned state's evidence against him to save himself.
Margot never attended the hearings. She had no interest in watching a defeated man make excuses. She was too busy living the life she had finally claimed for herself. It was a crisp, beautiful autumn morning. Margot sat on the balcony of her new apartment overlooking the ocean. She had sold the massive house in Pine Ridge; it held too many ghosts, too many echoes of a fake life. Now, she lived in a space filled with light, fresh air, and absolute truth. She poured herself a cup of black coffee—no cream, no sugar, just the way she actually liked it.
On the table in front of her sat a thick stack of printed manuscript pages. For three decades, she had written mysteries where the detective always saved the day. But her newest book was different. It was a thriller about a woman who discovers her husband’s betrayal in the dead of night. A woman who doesn’t cry, but calculates. A woman who dismantles her enemy’s life piece by piece. Her publisher had called it a masterpiece, projecting it to be a massive bestseller. And this time, every single cent of the royalties would go directly into her own account.
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Her phone buzzed on the table. It was a message from Eleanor, her attorney. “Final decree is signed by the judge. You are officially entirely free.” Margot smiled. She took a deep breath, inhaling the salty ocean breeze. For thirty-two years, she had been a supporting character in someone else's story. She had been told where to stand, what to say, and how to act. But the pen was finally in her own hand. Margot picked up her coffee, looking out at the endless, glittering horizon. She turned back to her manuscript, picked up a pen, and wrote the final words on the page.
THE END.
