CHAPTER 10: Sarah Leaves Prescott House

The police arrived with ambulance lights painting the roses red and blue.
Guests were separated into rooms. Statements were taken. Virginia gave hers with perfect posture and no useful information. Charles handed over the trust files without being asked twice. Lucas stayed near Sarah, but never close enough to trap her between his body and everyone's pity.
At midnight, the wedding planner asked quietly what should be done with the cake.
Sarah laughed until she cried.
By one in the morning, she had changed out of the champagne-soaked dress with Simone's help. The gown hung in a garment bag, no longer a symbol of ruined romance but evidence sealed by police. Sarah wore soft black trousers, a cream sweater, and the engagement ring Virginia failed to steal.
Lucas found her in the front hall.
"Where will you go?" he asked.
"Not here."
"Come to my apartment."
She looked at him, tired beyond kindness. "That is still one of your family's buildings."
"Then I'll leave it."
"Lucas."
He stopped.
Sarah touched the wheel rim, turning herself toward the open door. Outside, dawn had begun to pale behind the gates. Reporters waited beyond the police line, hungry for a bride in a chair and a mother-in-law in handcuffs, though Virginia had not been arrested yet.
"I love you," Sarah said. "But tonight I learned your family took my mother's silence, my body, my wedding, and almost my version of reality. I cannot heal inside anything with the Prescott name on it."
Lucas swallowed. "Are you leaving me?"
"I am leaving the house. Do not make those the same thing."
He nodded, though it hurt him.
Simone brought the car around. Dean loaded the medical records into the trunk. Sarah asked for one thing before leaving: the live-stream file saved in three places.
Lucas handed her a drive.
"It is yours," he said.
She closed her fingers around it. "So is the decision about what happens next."
"Yes."
She held his gaze a long moment. "That answer is the only reason there may still be a next."
As Simone pushed her toward the car, Virginia appeared at the top of the staircase in the red dress, barefoot now, her diamonds removed by police for inventory.
"You will regret turning my son against me," she called.
Sarah looked back once.
"No," she said. "I regret ever believing cruelty becomes family just because it stands near an altar."
Then she left Prescott House before sunrise.
For the first time since the accident, she did not feel like she was being taken away.
She was going.