His small face was peaceful in the dim light of the hallway.

I touched his soft cheek with my index finger.

“We are safe,” I whispered.

I went back downstairs.

I picked up the copy of the divorce decree.

My eyes traced the signature: *Julian Blackwood*.

It looked shaky.

It did not look like the signature of the man who ruled Wall Street.

I thought about him driving back through the dark.

He would return to Connecticut.

He would walk into that massive, empty house.

The movers had already taken my things.

The rooms would be stripped bare.

He would sit in the quiet, realizing the magnitude of what he had lost.

He had traded his family for a series of lies and a mistress who had already abandoned him.

I took a deep breath.

Tomorrow, I would go to the courthouse in Bangor.

I would file the paperwork to change Harrison’s last name back to Carter.

We would start our new life here, by the ocean.

There would be no more secrets.

No more hiding.

I walked to the kitchen window and looked out.