Chapter 4

Sarah sat by the window of the airplane, watching the city lights recede. She clutched the small, worn teddy bear, Lily' s favorite. She had almost left it behind, a painful reminder. But it was all she had left of her. She remembered a rare, fleeting moment, years ago, before Lily. Mark had given her a watch for her birthday. It wasn't expensive by his standards, but he' d fastened it on her wrist himself, his fingers brushing hers. For a foolish moment, she' d thought it meant something, a flicker of affection. Now, she knew better.

It was probably Tiffany who had reminded him it was her birthday. Tiffany, who always seemed to be pulling his strings, even then. The watch was long gone, sold to pay for a doctor's visit when her PPD was at its worst and Mark had "forgotten" to leave her any cash. Illusions, all of them, shattered.

Her father, David, sat beside her, his hand covering hers. He looked frail, his illness more pronounced. "I'm so sorry, Sarah," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "I never should have agreed to that marriage. I thought I was saving the company, saving our future. I sacrificed yours instead."

"It's not your fault, Dad," Sarah said, though a part of her had resented the deal for years. But seeing him now, so broken, melted her remaining anger. "We'll start over. Both of us."

He pressed a thick envelope into her hand. "It's not much. My remaining savings. And this." He handed her a piece of paper with a name and a London address. "Arthur Harrison. An old friend, from before... before everything. He' s successful, influential. I called him. He said he' d help you. A new start, Sarah. You deserve it."

Gratitude, warm and unexpected, filled her. "Thank you, Dad."

Days later, Mark finally noticed Sarah was truly gone. He' d been preoccupied, first with the "unpleasantness" of Lily' s death, then with soothing Tiffany. He called Sarah' s old number. Disconnected. He called her father' s apartment. No answer. He drove to David' s place. The landlord said they' d moved out, left no forwarding address. A flicker of unease, then annoyance. She was probably just being dramatic.

A week after Sarah had left the country, Maria, the housekeeper, met Mark at the Hamilton mansion. She wasn't in her uniform. She handed him a crisp legal envelope.

"What's this?" Mark asked, irritated.

"Divorce papers, Mr. Hamilton," Maria said, her voice surprisingly firm. "Mrs. Hamilton asked me to deliver them. She' s not claiming any assets. She just wants it finalized."

Mark stared at the papers, then at Maria. "She can't be serious."

"She is very serious, sir." Maria' s gaze was steady, accusatory. "And this is my resignation."

"What? You can't resign. We need you."

"No, Mr. Hamilton. You need to learn to care for yourselves. And to care for others." Her eyes flickered with a pain he didn't understand. "What you did to Mrs. Hamilton, and to little Lily... it was cruel. Unforgivable."

She turned and walked out, leaving Mark standing there, the divorce papers in his hand, a strange sense of emptiness beginning to gnaw at him. He crumpled the papers, his face contorting in a self-centered rage. How dare she? After all his family had done for her father? The ingratitude! He was Mark Hamilton. People didn' t just walk away from him.