Chapter 8 - The Ashes of Belle Meade
Three weeks later.
The summer sun shone brightly over the Belle Meade estate as a large yellow moving truck sat parked in the long circular driveway.
Evelyn stood on the front porch, holding a clipboard, watching two professional movers carry out the last of Grant’s personal items—a collection of expensive golf clubs, designer shoes, and framed awards he had bought for himself over the years.
Grant stood near the moving truck, wearing a plain gray t-shirt and jeans. He looked thin, tired, and entirely diminished.
After returning the embezzled funds and surrendering his equity, he had been left with nothing but his personal bank accounts—which were nearly empty after paying his criminal defense lawyers—and a small two-bedroom apartment in East Nashville.
Madison Cole had left him four days after the conference room meeting, taking her remaining savings and moving back to Los Angeles after her branding agency filed for bankruptcy.
Grant walked up the stone steps toward the porch, stopping ten feet away from Evelyn.
"The movers are almost finished," Grant said, his voice flat and rasping.
"Good," Evelyn said softly, checking a box on her clipboard. "The real estate team is listing the house on Monday. It’s too big for one person anyway."
Grant looked around at the grand estate—the fountain, the manicured gardens, the marble pillars—the life he had taken for granted for over a decade.
"You really erased me, didn't you, Evie?" Grant said, a bitter, sad smile touching his lips. "In less than a month, you completely erased me from the company, from this house... from your life."
Evelyn stopped writing and looked up at him.
"I didn't erase you, Grant," Evelyn said gently. "You erased yourself. You chose to trade eleven years of trust, partnership, and loyalty for a woman who didn't even know your middle name, and a fake empire built on stolen money."
Grant swallowed hard, tears welling in his bloodshot eyes. "I made a mistake. A terrible, stupid mistake. If I could go back—"
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"You can't go back, Grant," Evelyn interrupted quietly. "Life doesn't have a rewrite button. You have to live with the choices you made when you thought nobody was watching."
She turned and walked into the grand foyer, leaving him standing alone on the porch as the movers slammed the back doors of the yellow truck shut.
