Chapter 9 - Burning The Past
The legal proceedings took another four months to finalize the civil fallout.
Under Ohio’s slayer statute, Eric was completely disinherited from all joint assets, marital property, and insurance claims. The court ordered his architectural practice seized and liquidated to pay for my remaining medical rehabilitation and legal fees. Every single penny from our joint savings, the equity in our home, and his private investment accounts was legally transferred into my name alone.
On a crisp, golden Saturday morning in late October, a moving truck pulled into the driveway of the house on Sycamore Crest Lane.
I stood on the front lawn, Buster sitting loyally by my side, leaning his warm head against my knee. The real estate sign near the sidewalk had a bright red banner across the top: SOLD.
I had sold the house to an out-of-state developer who planned to raze the property and build a community botanical greenhouse. I refused to let anyone live inside those walls with the ghosts of Eric and Jenna’s betrayal.
Two movers carried out the final remnants of Eric’s belongings—his expensive golf clubs, his designer watches, his framed architectural awards—all headed for a city auction where the proceeds would go directly into an emergency fund for victims of domestic violence.
In the backyard, a small metal fire pit crackled with orange flames.
I walked over to the pit, holding a cardboard shoebox. Inside were the remnants of seven years of deception: our wedding album, the letters Eric had sent me during our college years, and the antique Tiffany locket Detective Walsh had returned to me after the trial concluded.
I opened the album. I looked at the glossy photo of Eric sliding the wedding ring onto my finger, promising to love me through sickness and health. I felt no rage anymore. The anger had burned itself out, leaving behind only cool, unbreakable iron.
I tossed the album into the center of the pit.
The glossy pages curled and blackened. The flames devoured the smiles, the fake promises, the white lace dress. Next went the letters, turning to grey ash that drifted upward into the autumn breeze.
Finally, I held the gold locket over the fire.
Forever Starts Soon.
""You were right, Jenna,"" I whispered to the empty air. ""Forever did start soon. Just not for you.""
I dropped the locket into the glowing red embers. The gold blackened, the glass face cracked with a sharp snap, and the photograph of their embrace dissolved into smoke.
May you like
Buster barked softly, nudging my hand with his nose. I reached down, ruffling his golden ears, and smiled for the first time in nearly a year.
""Come on, boy,"" I said, turning my back on the burning pit and the empty house. ""Our flight leaves in three hours.""
