But it was not true, because this was only the beginning.
The divorce was quick and surprisingly simple.
Elias did not even try to fight for the penthouse because he had already signed the legal agreement provided by Rebecca.
He could not deny the evidence of the fraud, as the fake invoices bore his signature and the bank transfers led straight to accounts linked to his mother.
He was sentenced to time in federal prison.
Cynthia managed to avoid jail by testifying against her own son, but she lost her home, her social reputation, and all of the refined dignity she had so often boasted about in public.
Brenda disappeared for several months to avoid the media.
I eventually learned that she had the baby, a boy named Leo, but Elias never got to hold him as a newborn because he was already locked behind bars.
I tried to move forward with my life as best as I could.
I sold the penthouse in the downtown district because I did not want to sleep in walls that had heard so many dark lies.
I officially joined the Wilson Group as the director of operations and stopped hiding my last name from the world.
I became tough, perhaps too tough.
For years, if a man smiled at me, I immediately looked for the hidden price tag attached to his kindness.
If someone was genuinely nice, I wondered what they were trying to gain from me.
I stopped believing in simple, human gestures until I met Daniel.
He was a talented architect from a small town, the son of a high school teacher and a hardworking mechanic.
I met him at a charity gala designed to raise funds for local hospitals.
I was bored, standing next to a large stone column and pretending to check my emails so I would not have to engage in small talk with the guests.
“You look like you would rather have a root canal than be here tonight,” he said with a friendly smile.
I looked at him, ready to cut him down with a sharp remark.
“It depends on the circumstances,” I answered.
“A root canal at least follows a predictable, necessary structure.”
Daniel let out a genuine, booming laugh that caught me off guard.
He did not ask about my company, he did not stare at my watch, and he certainly did not try to impress me with status.
He talked about historic buildings, local markets, and how a house should have natural light where a family could sit and talk.
I liked him entirely against my own better judgment.
It took me eight long months of dating before I finally agreed to let him move into my life.
When he discovered who my father was, he did not get excited or greedy.
He actually looked quite nervous.
“Perfect,” he said, shaking his head.
“Now everyone is going to think I am just another person looking for a free ride.”
