Later that night, Alexis lay awake in her childhood room, staring at the ceiling she knew by heart. She wasn’t calm. She wasn’t confident. But for the first time since Vincent asked for the divorce, she wasn’t powerless either.
And that mattered more than she’d expected. The lawyer’s office smelled faintly of old paper and polish. It wasn’t impressive, but it felt solid. The kind of place where things were decided carefully and rarely undone.