The card was simple. Just one line.
“Noa, I’m sorry.”
A month later, Jose told me Elias was dead.
Killed by Harper.
No one knew exactly how she’d done it–only that it was bloody and fast. Then she killed herself, hang herself in the basement.
The once–mighty Ward name faded like smoke.
The casino was auctioned off to a faceless billionaire.
The mansion was leveled. As if erasing it could erase the sins inside.
I didn’t ask about Lila. That poor baby didn’t deserve any of it–a mother who lied, a father who failed. I could only hope she ended up in a good home. One where love wasn’t conditional.
I never told the twins about Elias’s death. I don’t want Elias to influence them anymore.
The day we walked away from the Wards, we left everything behind–names, bloodlines, pain.
Marco was healing. Slowly, but steadily.
Tessa was thriving–top of her class, always smiling, her laughter filling rooms the way sunlight filled windows.
And me? I just closed another deal for my father’s business. Another win. Another day of being exactly who I was always meant to be.
The past no longer haunted me.
The future was bright.
And I’d finally remembered something I should’ve known all along: I don’t need anyone to protect me. I never did. I am a fucking strong and independent woman. And I’d survived perfectly on my own.
