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My theory on her motive is that Will was going to dethrone Fritz and Gianna, the royalty of Winter Park, and she wasn’t going to allow that to happen.

All she had was the life she had created, and maintained at any cost to anyone else.

Will had become another one of Fritz’s messes that she was going to clean up.

For all of the ways he kept trying to put himself in the middle of the investigation, there were plenty of questions about whether Fritz had known what Gianna did.

But both of them denied Fritz’s involvement in Will’s murder.

Even if things were tenuous between them, Fritz wouldn’t be foolish enough to kill off his biggest source of income.

Will had been single-handedly floating the company with his work and reputation.

Fritz was convinced he could salvage things.

As for Gianna, she was Machiavellian enough to know there are some secrets a lady takes with her to the grave.

The four of us were sadly entangled—Will, Fritz, Gianna, and me. We had all worked to keep up appearances and hold our perfect lives together, each in our own way.

Cable newsrooms were thrilled. In the end, there was a pretty wife who’d committed murder, but she wasn’t dumb. She was calculating. Lindy had dined out on the story for weeks. I had secretly felt vindicated by it.

Now, Este is watching me move a few boxes around the living room.

“You know you’re rich, right? Paying people to move your shit around for you is one of the greatest luxuries fuck-you money can buy.

And where is Autumn? I would think color-coding your boxes and running around this house like a maniac with a label maker would be her version of Disney World. ”

“She’s coming by later to deal with the Realtor. I’ve made her promise to call only if the house is on fire. I don’t think I’ll ever want to set foot in this place again.”

I follow Este into the kitchen, where she turns around and looks at me. “This is such bullshit. I can’t even bribe you to stay next door anymore. You’re too expensive.”

In the middle of all the shit, it really hadn’t occurred to me that Will would leave money behind.

That all of this was going to be mine. While there’d been a trust for Mia since the day she was born, the account would get a healthy infusion, but she couldn’t touch it for anything other than education until she was thirty.

Will was adamant that she needed to figure out who she was without money first. Constance would get the equivalent of her alimony until Mia graduated.

But the rest was mine. Like I had won some fucked-up dark-web lottery.

Dead husband? Winner! Here’s tens of millions of dollars.

The resolution of the Martinez case Fritz had been keeping an eagle eye on was a nine-figure payout, something the Halls had been counting on to take care of their outstanding debts.

Fritz’s half of the case fee was seized by the IRS.

But for me, it was a cherry on top of an already massive pile of money.

I had absolutely no idea what I was going to do with any of it.

I put my hand on the amber pendant around my neck.

We were happy. There was a time when we were each just what the other needed.

The memory of Will giving me the necklace is worth more than any of the money.

As for Fritz’s finances, the investigation Will had commissioned with Dean had given authorities a strong start.

The feds had gone on to uncover proof that Fritz had bled his estate dry on a series of failed investments, a busted Ponzi scheme that he was too dumb to execute, and an ungodly amount of gambling, drugs, and alcohol.

Fritz had squandered a few million dollars on bets alone when he got hammered on a trip to Vegas.

Their historic house was finally up for sale after months of legal holdups.

The Hall family’s legal team had high hopes that the proceeds of the sale could shore up all the money Fritz had leveraged our names to steal.

And the proceeds of the sale of Fritz and Will’s law practice, the building, and the entirety of the Hall estate would be divided among equity partners and Lenore; the rest would go to Mia and the Halls’ kids.

I didn’t want a single cent of that cesspool.

Este told me that in time I would figure out what to do with the money Will had left me. She’d set me up with her fancy wealth manager. I didn’t want to think about it now. First, a new start in a rental a few minutes away, then the spoils of this tragic war.

“You know there is no scenario in which I could stay in this house,” I say to Este. “But you’re going to see me all the time. Instead of waking up and walking next door, you can just call me. But please stop FaceTiming from the bathtub. It’s weird and there aren’t enough bubbles.”

“You say it like it’s a crime to do my administrative tasks from the tub. It’s called balance; look it up.”

She hugs me too hard, and I tell her I love her. “I really don’t know if I would have survived this without you.”

“And you’ve decided to repay this debt by leaving me.”

I don’t know how else to tell her I’m not leaving leaving. But she’s right that things are changing. They have to. I give her a look, and she softens.

“I’m proud of you,” she says. The words come out shaky, and I think she might cry.

She pulls herself together as we see Marcus’s perfectly refurbished vintage Defender come down the road.

He parks in Este’s driveway and makes his way toward us.

As he gives me a quick hug, that same hum of energy that’s always been between us lingers, but I do my best to ignore it.

Maybe if we had met at a different time…

But I was Will’s, and then I was a widow.

I’m too fucked up with grief to know what happens next.

These days, I’m working on earning his friendship after everything I put him through.

I grab my tote bag, and a Crealdé School of Art brochure almost falls out. Marcus picks it up, handing it to me with a satisfied grin on his face.

“Art school.” I nod. “Look at me not deflecting.”

It’s not a joke this time. There’s a great local program I’m hoping to start.

I’ve been working through my grief with a paintbrush, and it’s made me more eager than ever to pursue art.

Turns out, I care less about a graduate degree and more about doing the thing I enjoy.

For the first time, I’m chasing something that’s just for me.

“Good for you, Nora,” Marcus says.

Este turns to head down toward their dock.

It’s bittersweet. I still have so many days of unyielding and painful grief, but that’s to be expected.

Leaving this house, though the right thing, feels like I am abandoning Will.

Would Will and I have gone the distance if Gianna hadn’t been a housewife from hell?

It’s useless to wonder. He’s gone, and while I’ll never regret our marriage, I needed to leave, too. In my own way.

I lock the front door and put the key in the Realtor box. I stand on the front step, staring at the door, taking it all in, and letting it all go at the same time.

“Come on,” Este calls from her yard. “Let’s take you home.”

Marcus picks up the few bags I held back from the moving crew, and we walk down to Este and Beau’s boat. My new place is on the water. Just a boat ride away. But as we step onto the dock, I can’t deny myself a longing look back at Will’s house.

Breathe, Nora. Take it in. Find what’s next. That’s the job.

All I can do now is focus on chasing my own happiness. He would have wanted that.

Beau turns the engine over, powering the boat forward toward the setting sun in the distance. When the breeze picks up, I take in a long, hearty breath. And another…and another. With each exhale, Will’s house shrinks in the distance.

I’ll miss you forever, Hot Mean Lawyer.

And for the first time in a long while, looking to the horizon, I feel steady on my own two feet.