Chapter 5: A Reality Worth Living
One Year Later.
The invitation arrived in the mail on a Tuesday.
It was a heavy, embossed card inviting me to the annual Chicago Bar Association Gala. It was a room full of the city's elite—judges, politicians, and senior partners. A room Ethan would have killed to be in, desperately trying to network his way into a lifestyle he didn't want to earn.
I stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling mirror in my bedroom, adjusting the clasp of a diamond necklace. I was wearing a sleek, emerald-green evening gown that fit perfectly. I looked strong. I looked like myself.
Strong arms wrapped around my waist from behind, and Jackson pressed a soft kiss to my shoulder.
"You look dangerous, Counselor," he murmured, looking at our reflection in the mirror. He was dressed in a classic black tuxedo, looking effortlessly commanding.
I leaned back into his chest, smiling. "I feel dangerous."
Our life together over the past year had been a revelation. We had bought a new home together—a modern loft overlooking the river, far away from the suburbs that held the ghosts of my past. There was no drama in our house. There were no hidden text messages, no rehearsed stories, no emotional taxation. There was only mutual respect, deep passion, and a quiet, unshakable loyalty.
We arrived at the gala shortly after eight.
As we walked into the ballroom, the energy shifted, but this time, it wasn't because of a scandal. It was because we belonged there.
Colleagues approached to congratulate me on a recent high-profile case I had won. Partners from rival firms nodded in respect. Through it all, Jackson stood by my side, his hand resting comfortably on the small of my back. He didn't need the spotlight; he was entirely secure in his own skin, which made him all the more captivating.
Halfway through the evening, I stepped out onto the terrace to get some fresh air. The Chicago skyline glittered against the night sky.
I pulled out my phone to check an email from my associate and noticed a message request in my hidden inbox.
It was from an unknown number, but I recognized the cadence immediately.
Caroline, it’s Ethan. I know I shouldn't be messaging. I saw an article online about your partnership. Congratulations. I'm working at a car rental place in Denver now. It’s hard. I think about how good we had it sometimes. I hope you can forgive me someday.
I read the message.
I didn't feel anger. I didn't feel triumph. I felt absolutely nothing at all. He was a stranger. A ghost from a story I had long since closed the book on.
I pressed Delete. Then I pressed Block.
"Everything alright?" Jackson asked, stepping out onto the terrace and handing me a glass of champagne.
I slipped the phone back into my clutch and took the glass.
"Perfect," I said.
Jackson looked out at the city, then down at me. "I was thinking about that night. The reunion."
"What about it?"
"I was thinking about how you said you were done adjusting reality to protect people from it," he smiled, clinking his glass against mine. "Look at the reality you built instead."
I looked at him—at the man who had stood by me not to save me, but to watch me save myself. I looked at the city where my name was now respected on my own merits, not tied to a man who drained me.
I had lost a sister who was never truly family, and a husband who was never truly a partner. But in doing so, I had gained the entire world.
"To reality," I toasted, raising my glass.
May you like
Jackson smiled, his eyes warm and full of a love that didn't need to be performed for an audience. "To reality."
We drank the champagne, and as we walked back inside to join the music, I didn't look over my shoulder once. I didn't need to. The future was exactly where I wanted to be.
