Chapter 10 - The Unbroken Horizon
That evening, the sun set over the Long Island Sound in a brilliant, breathtaking expanse of violet, rose, and burnished gold.
I walked along the private beach at the edge of the Greenwich property, the cool salt water lapping gently over my bare feet, my linen trousers rolled up to my calves.
Lucy and Rose were running fifty yards ahead of me, building a massive sandcastle with blue plastic buckets, their giggles floating over the sound of the ocean waves.
Mark—my former chief operations officer and now co-managing partner of Hartwell Global—walked beside me, carrying two shoes in one hand and a folder of quarterly reports in the other.
“The international logistics expansion in Rotterdam closed at four o'clock,” Mark reported softly, looking out at the water. “We’re officially operating in fifteen countries.”
I took a deep, clear breath of the cool evening air, feeling it fill my lungs completely—no weight, no anxiety, no lingering ghosts of a family that had tried to make me invisible.
“Good,” I smiled, taking the folder from his hand and sliding it into my canvas bag. “We’ll review the European logistics team on Monday.”
Mark looked at me, a warm, quiet smile on his face. “You’ve come a long way from the small office in Westport, Eliza.”
I stopped on the wet sand, looking back at the high stone façade of the house sitting atop the green hill in the distance.
The lights inside the high windows were glowing with a warm, welcoming amber light. There were no caterers in tuxedos. There were no high-society investors drinking champagne they couldn't afford. There were no cruel grandmothers snapping their fingers at waiters.
There was only a home, built on truth, sustained by strength, and owned entirely by a woman who had stopped apologizing for her success.
“No, Mark,” I said softly, looking out at the endless horizon where the ocean met the evening sky. “I didn't come a long way.”
I turned my face toward my daughters, who were waving at me from their sandcastle, shouting for me to come look at the shell tower they had just built.
May you like
“I was always right here,” I whispered. “I just finally stopped letting them hide the view.”
I broke into a run across the wet sand, laughing as I rushed toward my daughters, leaving the broken remnants of the Prescott name far behind in the quiet, fading light.
