“Daniel Hayes deserved to have his name carried on by someone who believes in his work.”

The judge signed the order with a heavy black pen.

The sound of the ink drying seemed to fill the quiet room.

“The petition is granted,” the judge said. “From this day forward, you are legally Natalie Hayes.”

I took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the Richards name lift from my shoulders.

Beside me, my attorney smiled and shook my hand.

“Congratulations, Colonel Hayes,” he said.

Outside the courtroom, the marble hallway was busy with reporters and lawyers.

Eleanor met me near the brass elevators.

“It is done,” I said, showing her the stamped decree.

“Natalie Hayes,” she said, touching the paper with her thumb. “It sounds right.”

“Have you signed your papers?” I asked.

“Yes,” she said. “The divorce was finalized this morning.”

“And the name change?”

“The judge signed mine right after yours,” she said. “I am Eleanor Hayes again.”

We walked out of the courthouse and onto the concrete steps.

The cold rain stung my cheeks, but I did not put up my umbrella.