Tomorrow, the board would vote to make her executive director.
She replied:
Yes. No mercy for corruption. Plenty for the people we actually serve.
Marcus answered with a thumbs-up.
From the bedroom, Ethan laughed in his sleep.
Olivia switched off the kitchen light.
She had not destroyed Andrew out of revenge. Revenge was far too small. She had simply removed her name, her family, her son, and her future from the framework supporting his lies. Whatever collapsed afterward merely revealed how little had ever stood on its own.
The next morning, Ethan came downstairs wearing mismatched socks and asked if they could make cinnamon rolls.
Olivia paused.
For a moment she stood once again at the gate, holding a paper bag, covering her son’s ears, watching her life split apart through one careless sentence.
Then Ethan held up the flour with a hopeful smile.
She took it.
“Yes,” she said. “But we make them for us this time.”
