prologue

Chapter 8 - Reclaiming the Canvas

Two weeks later, the condo looked entirely different.

Sarah had hired a professional cleaning service to scrub every square inch of the apartment, followed by an interior designer friend to help her completely revamp the living space.

The floral apron was gone. Eleanor’s hideous ceramic knick-knacks had been boxed up and shipped to Mark’s new rental apartment with a curt sticky note attached. Chloe’s ring lights and half-unpacked clothes were nothing more than a bad memory.

In place of the oversized, clumsy sectional sofa Mark had insisted on buying, Sarah had installed a sleek, minimalist velvet lounge chair facing the floor-to-ceiling windows. The guest bedroom had been restored to its original purpose: a bright, sunlit drafting studio filled with architectural models, sketchbooks, and smelling faintly of fresh pine and graphite.

It was Friday night again.

Fourteen hours at the firm. A brutal week of deadlines, contractor negotiations, and city planning board meetings.

When Sarah unlocked the door to unit 702, the familiar wall of absolute, undisturbed quiet greeted her.

She kicked off her heels, letting them drop onto the mat. She stripped off her blazer, tossing it over her arm.

The apartment smelled of fresh lavender and roasted garlic.

She walked into the kitchen. On the spotless white marble island sat a thick, beautiful cut of ribeye she’d bought from the organic butcher, seasoned with rosemary and coarse salt, wrapped neatly in foil.

Right on top of the plate sat a small sticky note in her own handwriting:

“Sarah’s dinner. Absolutely nobody else’s.”

Sarah let out a long, shuddering breath of pure, unadulterated contentment.

She preheated the oven, poured herself a glass of crisp white wine, and walked out onto the balcony. The Hanoi skyline sparkled below her like a field of scattered diamonds, endless and brilliant.

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She took a slow sip of wine, feeling the cool evening breeze brush against her face.

For the first time in her life, every single light in the building—and every single light in her future—belonged entirely to her.

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