I left the study and walked up the grand staircase one last time, my hand trailing along the bannister I had polished with my own hands when the staff was overwhelmed.
I went to what had been our bedroom, though Julian had not slept there in over a year.
He preferred his suite in the east wing, far from me.
I did not touch the designer gowns hanging in the walk-in closet, clothes Arthur had bought to make me look presentable at charity functions.
I did not take the diamonds or the pearls or any of the jewelry that came with being a Sterling wife.
I reached into the very back of the closet and pulled out the beat-up suitcase I had arrived with three years ago.
The same suitcase I had used in college, covered in stickers from places I had never been but dreamed of visiting.
I stripped off the expensive silk dress I was wearing and pulled on my old jeans and a white t-shirt.
Clothes that were mine, bought with money I had earned, worn thin from actual life.
As I zipped the suitcase closed, the weight that had been sitting on my chest for three years finally lifted.
My phone buzzed in my pocket.