“You’ll regret this when you’re sitting in this big, empty house with no one to love you,” Beverly snapped. Serena simply smiled, a small and genuine expression that seemed to infuriate the older woman more than a scream would have.
“I’d rather be alone in a house I own than trapped in a home you’ve poisoned,” Serena replied. The officers guided Beverly out the door, and the sound of her heels faded down the driveway until the house was finally, blissfully quiet.
Wesley lingered at the threshold for a moment, looking back at Serena with a look of profound regret that arrived exactly one year too late. He started to speak, but Serena simply pointed toward the driveway, and he finally turned and walked away into the bright morning sun.
The following weeks were a blur of legal meetings, bank calls, and the slow process of reclaiming the space that had been occupied by the Thornes. Serena spent her evenings moving furniture and donating every piece of decor that Beverly had ever touched, including the pale green quilt from the guest room.