Chapter 6
The trial was six months later.
In those six months, I rebuilt.
I moved into a new apartment. Smaller than Daniel's place, but mine. Every piece of furniture I chose. Every wall I painted.
I got a promotion. Senior Vice President of Ethics and Compliance. A raise. A corner office.
I started dating again. Not seriously—just testing the waters. A coffee here. A dinner there. I wasn't ready for anything real. Not yet.
But I was healing.
The trial lasted four weeks. I testified for three days. The Hawthornes' lawyer attacked me relentlessly. Called me a gold-digger. A liar. A vengeful ex-wife.
I didn't break. I told the truth. And the evidence backed me up.
The jury deliberated for three days.
Guilty. On all counts.
Margaret: fifteen years. Vanessa: twelve years. Daniel: eight years.
The judge called them "a family of criminals who believed their wealth put them above the law."
After the sentencing, I walked out of the courthouse. The sun was shining. Reporters shouted questions. I didn't answer.
I just walked to my car, sat down, and breathed.
It was over. Really over.
The divorce was finalized a month later. I got nothing. I wanted nothing. Just my name back.
Claire Bennett.
It sounded good.
Ashford took control of Hawthorne Interiors. They restructured it. Kept the honest employees. Fired the corrupt ones. Turned it into a legitimate, profitable company.
Marcus offered me the chance to run it. CEO of the new Hawthorne Interiors.
I turned it down.
"I'm an auditor," I said. "Not a CEO. I like finding problems. I don't want to be the one creating them."
He laughed. "Fair enough. But the offer stands. If you ever change your mind."
I went back to my work. Finding fraud. Protecting investors. Making sure companies played by the rules.
And I started something else.
A foundation. The Bennett Foundation. To help women who'd been manipulated. Controlled. Abused by partners and families. Legal aid. Counseling. Job training.
I told my story at shelters. At conferences. At schools.
And every time, women came up to me afterward, crying, saying I'd given them the courage to leave.
I was healing. And I was helping others heal.
Life was good.
But there was one thing I hadn't done. One person I hadn't spoken to.
Richard Hawthorne. Daniel's father.
He'd never been charged. The investigation found he'd known nothing. He'd been as manipulated as I was—Margaret had controlled everything. He'd called me once, after the arrest. Left a voicemail. Apologizing. Saying he had no idea.
May you like
I hadn't called him back.
Until now.
