His words were like a balm, soothing the raw edges of my emotions. For years, I had tried to make peace with Kenneth’s family, to be the wife they expected, to keep the harmony that never truly existed. But today, that facade had shattered.

Damian continued, “I’ve arranged for you to stay at the penthouse until you decide your next steps. There’s no rush. Take your time to heal and think.”

I nodded, my voice momentarily lost. The penthouse was a place of sanctuary, a world away from the drama and pretenses. It was a place where I could breathe and, perhaps, find myself again.

As we stopped at a traffic light, the enormity of what had happened began to sink in. My marriage, it seemed, was in tatters, exposed by the raw light of reality. And yet, there was a certain liberation in that exposure. The lies and pretense were over.

Damian glanced at me, perhaps sensing my tumultuous thoughts. “And about Kenneth,” he added, “consider him a closed chapter. There are ramifications for actions, and today he learned that.”

His words were final, a full stop at the end of a tumultuous sentence. I looked at him, my protector, my brother, and managed a small, grateful smile.

“Thank you,” I finally whispered, my voice hoarse from unspoken emotions.

He nodded, understanding everything in those two words. “Family sticks together,” he replied, his voice softer now, filled with warmth.

As we approached the penthouse, a sense of calm washed over me. The building stood tall, its glass façade reflecting the sun, welcoming, promising. It was here I’d chart my new course, decide what I wanted, who I was away from the shadows of a loveless marriage.

Damian parked, and as he accompanied me inside, I felt a flicker of hope. In the weeks to come, I’d rebuild my life, not as Kenneth’s wife, nor as Catherine’s daughter-in-law, but as Lena – strong, resilient, and free.

The future was uncertain, but for the first time in a long time, it was mine to shape. With Damian by my side, I was ready to face whatever lay ahead. As we stepped into the elevator, I knew the next chapter would be different—one where I wrote the story.