Chapter 34 - The Syracuse Collapse
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The news about Lorraine didn't come from Andrew. It came through the bizarre grapevine of extended family gossip that inevitably filters down during the holidays.
I was at home, baking bread—a hobby I had picked up simply because I loved the smell of yeast in my quiet kitchen—when my phone buzzed. It was a text from Andrew’s cousin, Sarah, the only member of his family who had ever shown me an ounce of genuine kindness.
Thought you should know, Sarah texted. Lorraine lost her house. Apparently, she took out a massive reverse mortgage a few years ago to fund her lifestyle and pay off gambling debts we didn't know about. The bank foreclosed. She’s moving into a tiny assisted living facility.
I wiped the flour off my hands and stared at the screen.
For years, Lorraine had terrorized me. She had mocked my career, invaded my privacy, and treated me like a peasant trespassing in a castle she didn't even own. She had clung to my house because she was secretly terrified of losing her own, overcompensating for her hidden financial ruin with arrogant cruelty.
It all made perfect, devastating sense now. Her insistence that family didn't need "contracts" was just a desperate cover for her own financial incompetence. She needed Andrew to stay married to me so she could maintain access to my stability.
She had tried to destroy my life to subsidize her own failure.
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I didn't reply to Sarah immediately. I let the information settle. It was the final puzzle piece, the last lingering mystery of my marriage resolved.
Thanks for letting me know. I hope she finds peace, I finally texted back. It was polite, detached, and entirely true. I didn't wish her harm; I just didn't care.
