He looked at me, his expression earnest.

“And his mother?” I asked.

“Her assets are being frozen,” Nathan said. “She won’t have the money to fight you anymore.”

I closed my eyes, a long breath escaping my lips.

“It’s finally over,” I said.

“It’s over,” Nathan agreed.

The silence between us was comfortable, filled with the ticking of the wall clock.

I looked at his hands, strong and calloused from his weekend woodworking hobby.

“We don’t need the fake marriage certificate anymore,” I said softly.

He looked at me, his eyes searching mine.

“No,” he said. “We don’t.”

“Thank you for saving us, Nathan,” I said.

“I didn’t save you, Emily,” he said, reaching out to cover my hand with his. “You saved yourself. You did the work.”

His touch was warm, and for the first time, I didn’t feel the weight of debt or obligation.

I felt equal to him.

By May, my business had grown enough to hire an assistant.

I rented a small office space downtown, with big windows that let in the morning light.