Chapter 171 Watching The Billionaire Walk Away
I tapped the folder.
"Sign the paper, Celeste. It is the last transaction you will ever make in this city."
She picked up the pen with trembling fingers. She stared at the signature line. A single tear slipped down her cheek, landing on the stark white paper. It was not a tear of remorse for the things she did to me. It was a tear for the illusion she had spent her entire life defending.
She signed her name.
She pushed the folder back across the metal table.
"Are you happy now?" she asked. Her voice was small. The arrogant socialite was dead. Only a hollow shell remained in the chair.
"I am done," I said.
I stood up. I took the folder. I turned my back on her and walked to the door. I knocked twice on the heavy steel.
"Minerva," Celeste called out before the guard turned the lock.
I paused, keeping my hand by my side. I did not look back.
"He will break you again," Celeste warned. Her voice echoed in the sterile room. "Tristan. He does not know how to love anything he cannot control. He will burn you down just like he burned me."
The heavy door opened. I stepped out into the hallway. The guard secured the lock behind me, cutting off her voice.
I walked down the long corridor. I handed the folder to the waiting federal prosecutor. I walked through the metal detectors and pushed the front doors open.
The cold wind hit my face. I stopped on the concrete steps.
I closed my eyes and breathed.
The air tasted clean. The heavy, crushing weight I had carried since the night of the ballroom scandal evaporated. I did not feel the ghost of Celeste Whitmore breathing down my neck. I did not feel the shadow of Harriet Montgomery. The war was officially over.
For the first time in years, I had no one left to beat. I had no one left to expose. I had no one left to survive.
I opened my eyes. Diego stood by the car, holding the back door open. I walked down the steps and got inside.
"Headquarters?" Diego asked.
"No," I said. "Take me to the apartment."
The drive through the city felt different. The tension in my shoulders unspooled. I watched the people walking on the sidewalks. They drank coffee. They carried umbrellas. They lived ordinary lives. I wanted that. I wanted to wake up and make breakfast for my son without checking the news feeds for a smear campaign. I wanted to exist.
We reached the building. I took the private elevator to my floor.
I unlocked the door and stepped inside. The apartment was quiet. My nanny had taken Elias to the park for the afternoon.
I took off my coat and draped it over the back of the sofa.
I walked toward the kitchen to pour a glass of water, but I stopped in the hallway.
Tristan stood by the large living room window. He wore a dark sweater and gray slacks. He looked out at the city skyline. A black leather travel bag sat on the floor near his feet.
I stepped into the room. "Marcus told me you were at the legal office finalizing the asset transfers."
Tristan turned around. The lines around his gray eyes looked deeper than usual. "I finished the paperwork an hour ago. The Johnston estate is completely out of my name. It is all tied to the Serrano Trust now."
He looked at my face. He studied my posture. He saw the missing weight on my shoulders.
"You saw Celeste," he noted.
"She signed the plea agreement," I said. "It is finished. All of it."
Tristan gave a slow nod. "You look free, Mina."
"I am," I replied. The truth of the word settled into my bones.
He looked down at the leather bag by his feet. He reached out and wrapped his hand around the strap.
"I bought a house on the coast," Tristan said. His voice was steady, but it lacked its usual anchor. "It is a quiet town. No media. No corporate offices."
I stared at the bag. My heartbeat stumbled. "You are leaving the capital."
"You told me you needed to heal," Tristan said. He met my gaze. He did not step closer. "You cannot heal while looking at the man who built your cage. You defeated every enemy, Mina. You faced down the board. You beat Thomas. You closed the book on Celeste. I am the last ghost."
He lifted the bag. He adjusted his grip.
"I will come back on the weekends to see Elias," Tristan promised. "I will never be far if he needs me. But I will not haunt your life anymore. I will not be a shadow in your city."
He walked toward the front door. He was doing exactly what I asked him to do. He was giving up control. He was stripping himself of every selfish impulse he ever had, leaving the ultimate choice in my hands.
He reached the door. He put his hand on the brass handle.
"Goodbye, Mina," he said.