The Ghost in the Machine
On a crisp Tuesday morning I walked into the corner office that used to be his. It had been completely renovated — the dark mahogany and leather gone, replaced by glass, light, and open space.
I stood at the floor-to-ceiling window, looking out over the valley, and reached up to touch my collarbone. Resting there was a delicate silver pendant.
A tiny engraved sunburst. I’d had the police retrieve it from Vanessa’s belongings before she went to prison.
Noah’s necklace was finally where it belonged.
I had survived the gilded cage. I had become the ghost in the machine. And now I was the architect of my own future.
THE END.