“Let’s call a moving company,” Isabella suggested.

Carly frowned. “But there’s so much stuff. Where will it all go?”

“Here, first. Adrian’s place is huge. We can store everything until you find a new home,” Isabella said.

Carly hesitated. “But… won’t that be too much trouble?”

Isabella stopped, her gaze sharp. “Carly, do you think I’d mind?”

Carly shook her head frantically. “No! I just… I’m worried Adrian will be upset.”

Adrian appeared then. “Carly, do I look like the kind of guy who’d be upset?” he asked, a hint of helplessness in his voice.

Carly stared, the weight of her assumptions crashing down. The Carter family… they were different. “Okay, then… Ronald and I will move our things here. We’ll find a place, and move out right away.”

Isabella nodded. “Okay.”

Relief washed over Carly as they began packing. They handled the essentials themselves, while Isabella called the movers for the rest. Soon, only Charles’ belongings remained. Carly didn’t want them.

They left together. Charles panicked, scrambling after them, begging Carly to reconsider. She firmly pushed him away. He lunged again, but Adrian’s bodyguards intervened, pulling Charles back.

Neighbors watched the scene unfold, a hush falling over the street. Most knew Carly’s story—a woman trapped in an abusive marriage. Many were happy to see her leave. A few, however, muttered disapproval, shaking their heads at the “selfishness” of young people, worried about the impact on young Ronald.

Carly ignored them. Years of societal pressure had kept her trapped, convinced divorce would harm Ronald. But a home filled with resentment and violence was far worse.

Charles, thwarted by Adrian’s bodyguards, could only watch as Carly and Ronald drove away. Adrian, having stayed to ensure a smooth departure, followed shortly after, a noticeable lift in his mood.

He drove straight home—a private mansion, separate from the family home—feeling a profound sense of happiness. Isabella, Carly, and Ronald were already there, unpacking. Isabella moved with a focused energy, eager to get Carly settled.

Carly felt a mix of relief and nervousness, this being her first time staying at this house with so much of her belongings.

The mansion was sparsely staffed: one cook and that's it. Adrian and Isabella preferred it that way, neither of them liking a large household staff.

They worked together, moving boxes, sorting through belongings. Adrian handled the heavy lifting, while they organized essentials and stored less-used items.

Ronald blinked at Carly, his eyes shining with excitement. “Mom, we don’t have to live with Dad anymore?”

Carly smiled, stroking his hair. “No, honey. We’re not going back.”

Ronald beamed. “Me neither!”

The memory of Charles’ cold indifference and frequent outbursts washed over Carly. She’d been so foolish, trapped by outdated ideas of what constituted a ‘good’ family. An absent father was far preferable to an abusive one.

Isabella approached, holding ointment. Charles’ slap had left a visible mark on Carly’s face.

“I… I’m fine,” Carly stammered, suddenly shy. Even with Isabella, her sister and closest confidante, it was difficult to reveal the extent of Charles’ abuse. She’d kept much of it hidden for so long.