But the suffocating weight that had crushed my chest for seven years was simply gone.

I looked at the quiet house. It was no longer a prison. It was only real estate — an asset that would be sold in the divorce to fund a new, independent life.

I stepped out onto the porch and breathed in the cold winter air. The sleet had stopped; the sky was clear and full of hard, brilliant stars.

Marcus had wanted an unforgettable fortieth birthday party. He’d wanted to show the world his power and his control.

I’d given him exactly what he asked for.

I smiled into the dark — a real smile, quiet and at peace. The hostess had performed her final duty. And the woman underneath was, at last, free.

THE END.