“Sold.”
“To whom?”
“I haven’t decided.”
He grinned.
“Your husband always said it was his favorite asset.”
I looked at him.
“No.”
I corrected him.
“It was never his.”
I walked away.
Behind me, the doors of Prescott Technologies closed.
And for the first time in four years, I didn’t look back.
The world had once believed I was the woman who had nothing.
They were wrong.
I had lost a husband.
I had lost a marriage.
I had lost four years believing someone else’s success was proof that my sacrifices had meaning.
But I hadn’t lost myself.
Because I finally understood the truth:
A woman does not become powerful when she takes everything from a man.
She becomes powerful when she realizes she never needed him to validate what she was worth.
Aaron had spent four years believing he owned my seat.
My money.
My loyalty.
