Chapter 4

The next few days were a blur of preparations. I had to get my life packed into a few suitcases. My funds were still tight, even with the promise from the plant's management.

I looked at the one expensive thing Matthew had ever bought me. It was a designer suit, purchased in a fit of generosity after a promotion. He'd insisted I needed to "look the part" of a supervisor's wife. I had worn it once.

I knew who might appreciate it. Maria, the wife of a department manager at the plant. She worked in high-end retail and had an eye for fashion.

I called her.

"Maria, it's Gabrielle Johns. I have a bit of an odd request."

I met her for coffee, the suit carefully packed in a garment bag. She had already heard the gossip from the barbecue, of course. The entire apartment complex was buzzing with it.

She listened patiently as I explained my situation, her expression growing more sympathetic.

"That man is a piece of work," she said, shaking her head. She examined the suit, her professional eye taking in the fabric and the cut. "This is beautiful, Gabrielle. And barely worn."

"I was hoping to sell it," I said. "I need the money for... supplies for my trip."

"How much are you asking?"

I named a price that was fair, but probably less than it was worth.

Maria didn't even bargain. She pulled out her checkbook. "I'll give you two hundred dollars more than that. Think of it as a donation to your cause. What you're doing is incredible."

I left the coffee shop with a check in my pocket and a lighter heart. It was more than just money; it was a vote of confidence.

When I got back to the apartment to grab my last few things, Matthew was there, blocking the doorway. His face was a thundercloud.

"You need to go to Nicole and apologize," he demanded, his voice low and menacing. "You humiliated her. You've made her life a living hell."

I laughed. A real, genuine laugh. It felt good.

"Apologize?" I said, pushing past him into the apartment. "Matthew, the only thing you need to worry about is getting that money ready. HR will be in touch."

He grabbed my arm. "Gabrielle, don't do this."

I pulled my arm away, my face hardening. "It's already done. I'm staying at a friend's tonight. Don't contact me again unless it's about the money or the divorce."

I left him standing there, his mouth open, utterly powerless.

My last stop before leaving town was a few hours away, in the small rural town where my aunt and uncle lived. They had raised me after my parents died, and they were the only real family I had.

I sat at their familiar kitchen table and told them everything. The job, the affair, the money, the Appalachian mission.

My uncle, a quiet man, just clenched his fists, his jaw tight with anger. My aunt started crying.

"Oh, honey," she said, pulling me into a hug. "That boy was never good enough for you. We knew it."

"I'm going to be fine," I told them, my voice thick with emotion. "I'm going to be better than fine."

I tried to give them some of the money from selling the suit, but they refused, pushing it back into my hand.

"You need this," my uncle said, his voice firm. "You go out there and you make a difference. We are so proud of you."

Driving away from their small house, I felt a profound sense of peace. The old ties were being severed, and the new ones, the ones that mattered, were stronger than ever.