Zoe's POV
The sun hit the dining room table at an angle I hadn't seen in months—a long, golden slant of light that didn't feel heavy with court documents or police tape. For the first time since the trial ended three weeks ago, the front driveway was empty.
The reporters were finally gone. Whether they had grown tired of baking under the sun waiting for a quote, or whether a fresh, scandal-laden headline elsewhere had swallowed their attention, the circus had folded its tent and moved on. What the silence left behind was eerie, almost fragile.
"The frozen accounts are officially unfrozen, Zo," Chloe said, setting down a ceramic mug that chimed softly against the wooden tabletop. Her voice carried a lightness I hadn't heard in years. "Mr. Donovan said the deed to the Vermont house was cleared yesterday afternoon. Everything Dad owned... It's all ours again. We can actually go home."
