Part 4 — Seven Years After the Divorce, My Ex-Husband Laughed at My Simple Dress, but the Guest Who Entered the Hall Immediately Erased His Smile

After Miranda’s words, the air in the room seemed to grow heavier.

“He mentioned my name?” I asked.

“His voice is not visible on the camera, but audio was recorded,” Miranda replied. “He said that he had to take the folder ‘on Evelyn’s instructions.’”

Richard immediately looked toward me.

“You see? This is exactly what I was saying. You arranged all this.”

“I did not send anyone into the archive.”

“You wanted to destroy me!”

Harrison leaned forward.

“Careful, Richard.”

“Do not interfere!” he shouted at him. “This is my family matter.”

Lily’s little fingers clung to my hand. I immediately felt her fear, and Richard’s voice finally convinced me that I would never again allow this man to enter my home or my peace.

The door opened.

Two investigative officers and the foundation’s lawyer entered. One of them held an official document in his hand.

“Richard Bradley, you must come with us to answer several questions,” he said.

Richard first looked at me, as if expecting me to start saving him out of old habit.

“Evelyn, tell them this is a mistake.”

“It is not a mistake,” I told him calmly.

“You were my wife!”

“Seven years ago.”

“You know my life!”

“That is exactly why I know I cannot help you this time.”

His face tensed.

Tiffany stood by the wall and turned her ring around. The stone loosened on her finger, as if it too had become very heavy.

“I will not go with him,” she said quietly.

Richard looked at her in astonishment.

“What are you saying?”

“What I should have been saying from the beginning. I did not know who you were.”

The officer extended his hand.

“Please come with us.”

Richard was led out of the room, but the story did not end that same night. Phones were ringing in the corridor. The foundation’s directors were speaking quietly to one another. Richard’s lawyer called Miranda and demanded that the results of the audit be canceled immediately.

Miranda answered with only one sentence:

“We do not cancel documents because they do not create the truth; they show the truth.”

The next day Richard called my phone twenty-one times.

I did not answer the first call.

Nor the second.

On the twenty-second he left a voice message.

“Evelyn, you have no idea what you are doing. Come, let us talk. We once loved each other.”

When I arrived at work, Miranda sent me the recording. It was the full audio from the camera, which we had heard only partially the previous evening. Richard’s voice could be heard clearly.

“She has nothing. After I leave, she will achieve nothing. People do not notice women like that.”

Then the employee’s voice sounded.

“What if the audit finds this?”

Richard laughed.

“I will blame Evelyn. She has been doing my work all her life anyway.”

I looked at the screen for a long time.

It was strange to hear my former husband’s words as if he were speaking about another woman. But then I realized—she truly was another woman. Evelyn from seven years earlier. The one who thought that her value was determined by someone else’s recognition.

Two weeks later Richard’s company was removed from the foundation’s contracts. The investigative service demanded the return of the funds. His brother left the city, the intermediary companies closed, and Tiffany filed for divorce.

I went to court only once—when I signed my testimony. Richard looked at me in the courtroom, but this time his look was no longer mocking. He was simply a tired man who had understood too late that control and power are not the same thing.

“You can change your statement,” he told me during the break. “Let us start everything over.”

“No, Richard.”

“Why?”

“Because I have already started over. Without you.”

Several months passed.

Harrison and I moved to a small town where the smell of the sea came through the open windows in the mornings. Lily went to school. Twice a week I worked on a new program of the veterans’ foundation, and on the other days my consulting team managed projects from home.

Our house was not large. An old wooden table stood in the kitchen, and Lily’s colored pencils were always scattered across its surface.

One morning, during the first snow, Lily brought me a drawing.

Three people stood by the sea in it. Me, Harrison, and herself. And above them a large yellow sun was drawn.

“Why is this sun so large?” I asked.

“So that the way to our house does not get lost,” she answered.

The small copper compass was still hanging on my bag. Over the years its surface had become scratched, but its needle still showed the correct direction.

That evening I received Richard’s last message.

“I want to talk about Lily. Maybe we could meet alone at least once. You are successful now, but you know that something will always remain between us.”

I looked at the screen for a long time.

Then I wrote:

“I will discuss matters connected with Lily only in the presence of a lawyer. There is nothing left to return to in our past. Please do not contact me at my personal number again.”

I deleted his message and put the phone down.

Harrison stood at the kitchen door.

“Are you all right?” he asked me.

“Yes.”

Lily looked outside through the window.

“Mommy, shall we go out into the snow?”

I put on my coat and touched the compass. Years ago I thought it showed me the lost road. Now I understood that I had never lost the road.

I had simply, finally, gone in my own direction.

The compass needle pointed north.

I was home.