My Sweetest Escape

A portrait of my father, a respected foreman, hung on the wall. He looked down at

where a woman with a tired fa

aid, my voice steady. "M

rank's girl. Of course. Wha

's legacy benefit," I sai

hen you'd come by. Your fiancé, Mr. Scott, has been in here asking about

now," I said. "I'

ad to hear that. Your father would be proud.

gning my name. The house was a small, two-bedroom bungalow, but it w

h me. I counted out thirty crisp one-hundred

ed the final document, and slid a

nnabel," she said.

. They were the keys to my future. I had just cut th

twenty-five years. I went straight to my new house. It was modest, but it was mine. I w

uplex to wait for him. The