Chapter 10 - The Master of Her Fate
One year later.
I stood in the grand foyer of the Whitmore Family Estate, looking at a newly framed photograph hanging on the wall beside my father's portrait.
It was a photo taken on the day Forbes magazine named me one of the Top Fifty Philanthropic Leaders in the country. In the picture, I was standing on the steps of the Whitmore Plaza, wearing a tailored emerald green suit—the exact same shade as the dress I had worn on the night of the Bellamy Hotel gala.
"It looks perfect right there, Miss Evelyn," Maria said, stepping into the foyer with a feather duster.
"Thank you, Maria," I smiled. "It reminds me where I came from."
"And where you're going," Marcus added, walking through the front door with his leather briefcase. "The board of the Chicago Art Institute just called. They want you to accept the position of Board Chairwoman next month."
"Tell them I’d be honored," I said, turning around to face him. "As long as I get final approval on the venue contracts."
Marcus laughed, a deep, booming sound that echoed through the high-ceilinged room. "I don't think anyone in this city will ever try to trick you with a venue contract again, Evelyn."
I walked out onto the front porch of the estate.
The autumn morning was crisp and clear. The red and gold leaves of the maple trees swept across the manicured lawn.
My driver opened the rear door of the sedan, holding a warm cup of Earl Grey tea for me.
I looked up at the blue sky, feeling the full weight of my freedom, my wealth, and my peace.
I was no longer the woman standing by the head table, waiting for a man to give me permission to exist. I was the architect of my own life.
I stepped into the car, sat back against the soft leather seat, and looked out at the city waiting for me.
"Where to, Miss Whitmore?" the driver asked, looking at me in the rearview mirror.
May you like
I smiled, taking a slow sip of my tea.
"To the top floor," I said smoothly. "I own the building."
