Chapter 9 - The Final Encounter
Six weeks passed.
The leaves turned from brilliant gold to deep crimson before falling across the rolling lawns of the Lake Forest estate. The media frenzy surrounding Grant’s arrest had peaked, burned hot for two weeks, and gradually faded into corporate history. Madison Reed took a plea deal that included eighteen months of probation and complete financial restitution, leaving Chicago in disgrace to move back to her parents’ home in Ohio.
Grant Holloway, stripped of his title, his reputation, and his social standing, was living in a rented studio apartment on the far south side, awaiting his final civil hearing.
I saw him one last time on a cold Tuesday morning in November, in the sterile conference room of the county courthouse. We were there to sign the final dissolution of marriage decree.
When Grant walked in, I barely recognized him.
The three-thousand-dollar custom Brioni suits were gone, replaced by an off-the-rack navy blazer that hung loosely on his thinning frame. His face was hollowed out, dark circles bruising the skin beneath his eyes. The easy, arrogant charm that had once captivated boardrooms was entirely extinguished.
He sat across from me at the long wooden table. When his eyes dropped to my belly—now swollen into the eighth month of pregnancy—his expression crumbled.
"Claire," he rasped, his voice rough. "You look beautiful."
I didn't answer. I kept my posture straight, my hands resting lightly over the black wool coat draped across my lap.
"I tried calling your mother's house," Grant said, his hands fidgeting nervously with a cheap plastic pen. "Thomas wouldn't put me through. I just... I wanted to ask if you'd let me see her. Just once. When she's born."
Marcus Vance sat beside me, ready to intervene, but I raised a gentle hand, signaling that I would handle it myself.
"You signed the parental surrender, Grant," I said calmly, looking straight into his eyes. "You signed it because you thought it would save you from paying thirty thousand dollars in restitution."
"I panicked!" Grant cried, leaning forward, desperation bleeding into his tone. "Claire, I was looking at ten years in federal prison! I was terrified! You have to understand what it felt like to lose everything in one night!"
"You didn't lose everything in one night, Grant," I replied softly. "You threw it away piece by piece for eighteen months. Every time you touched her. Every dollar you stole. Every lie you whispered when you kissed me goodnight before climbing into our bed."
Grant bowed his head, a single tear rolling down his hollow cheek.
The judge’s clerk entered, placing the final decree between us. I picked up my pen and signed my name—Claire Montgomery—dropping the Holloway surname forever.
I pushed the paper across to Grant.
He stared at my signature, his hand trembling so violently he could barely hold the pen. Finally, he scratched his name at the bottom.
May you like
"Have a good life, Grant," I said, standing up smoothly with Marcus's assistance.
I walked out of the courtroom without looking back.
