That quilt shop could’ve been a hit—nothing like it existed in Springfield or nearby towns, and folks loved the unique designs. But Ethan squandered the profits on fancy dinners with Sophia and her endless shopping sprees. He chipped in just enough for the condo mortgage, leaving Valerie and Helen to cover the rest. Then, in the notary’s office, the news hit like a sledgehammer:
— All assets, savings, and the quilt shop go to Ethan, the notary declared.
Valerie’s heart sank. Ethan let out a smug chuckle.
— So, Val, how’s that mortgage going? Keep those payments up, ‘cause Sophia and I have big plans for our money. Not that I need to ask—it’s your problem now! he sneered, as he and Sophia cackled.
The notary, an older man with gentle, tired eyes, turned to Valerie.
— This letter’s from your mother-in-law, he said quietly, sliding an envelope across the desk.
Sophia snorted, and Ethan barked:
— Oh, perfect, now Val’s gonna read it and cry her eyes out! You and my mom were two peas in a pod! Clear your junk out of the condo by tonight!
Valerie locked eyes with him, forcing her voice to stay calm.
— I already did. Live your life, Ethan.
Ethan’s grin faded, his gaze turning icy.
— Getting cocky, huh? he muttered.
The notary rose from his chair.
— Ethan, get out of my office.
Ethan scoffed.
— Let’s go, Sophia. Nothing worth sticking around for.
They stormed out, and Valerie stayed behind, gripping the letter like it was her last hope, a spark of possibility flickering in her chest.
In the notary’s quiet hallway, Valerie sank onto a wobbly chair and unfolded the letter. Her heart pounded as her shaky fingers traced Helen’s careful handwriting.
— My dear, don’t be scared, Helen wrote. — I’ve made sure you and my grandson are set. Ethan couldn’t know, so I kept everything hush-hush. Read this closely. The notary has a packet of documents for you. They prove you’ve paid the full condo mortgage. When you file for divorce, show them to the judge, and the condo’s yours—deed and all. The notary’s in on it and will handle the paperwork. In court, say you’ll sell the condo right away. You can’t stay there.
Tears stung Valerie’s eyes, but she read on.
— In my hometown of Peoria, there’s an old friend, my first love. We’ve kept in touch, and he’s helped me out over the years. After the divorce, go there and find him. He’ll show you an apartment I set up for you and a small quilt shop, just like the one in Springfield. It’s already running, and it’s yours to grow. In the packet, there’s cash—enough for you and my grandson for a year or two. I couldn’t take more without Ethan catching on. And, Valerie, if you ever think about remarrying, pick a kind man. I know you’ve got this.
The letter went on:
— Ethan? He’s his father’s spitting image—those traits run deep. But you’re stronger than he knows. Get out, Valerie, start fresh. Once you’re standing tall, men like my son won’t be able to hurt you. He only goes after those he thinks are weak.
Valerie brushed away her tears, took a steadying breath, and stepped back into the notary’s office. The notary gave her a warm smile.
— You’re looking more alive already, Valerie. Keep that spark!