One evening, Cassandra received a call. Preston demanded to see her. He spoke bitterly about losing investors who now supported Cassandra exclusively. He threatened to spread lies.
Cassandra ended the call calmly. “Your voice no longer has power over my life.”
The next day, she legally removed him from any remaining connection to her company. Not out of revenge. Out of necessity. Months passed. Cassandra attended Ben school play and clapped until her hands hurt. Trevor taught Cassandra how to paint a wall. She ruined three attempts and laughed harder than she had in years.
Their first kiss happened under a half finished mural of a phoenix rising from flames. Cassandra had paint on her cheek. Trevor brushed it away gently.
“Looks better on you than on brick,” he said.
She kissed him before she could think.
A year later, they married in the same community center courtyard. Children from the neighborhood hung paper lanterns. Ben carried the rings proudly. Cassandra wore a simple dress and no jewelry except a silver bracelet Ben gave her.
During the vows, Cassandra said. “I built machines that changed industries. Yet you taught me how to build a home.”