As the dust settled, major networks bombarded me with requests for exclusive interviews.
I decided it was time to write the final chapter of this saga.
In a pristine studio, the interviewer asked about my plans moving forward.

I looked directly into the camera and smiled.
"Before I answer that, I'd like to make an announcement."
"Every asset I own—the apartment they tried to steal, my bank accounts, investments, everything involved in this ordeal—I'm donating it all."
The studio fell into stunned silence.
"I'm establishing a foundation, overseen by Dr. Nathan Hayes and my legal team."
"This foundation will support survivors of family exploitation and relationship abuse."

"We'll offer legal assistance, trauma counseling, and safe housing for those trying to escape toxic situations."
I paused, making sure each word landed with precision.
"Money itself is cold, but what we do with it can create warmth."
"I'm taking what they coveted so desperately—what I no longer need—and using it to help those who truly deserve support."

I rose from my chair.
"As for me? I already have the most valuable thing in the world."
"My freedom."
That night, #VivianReedDonatesEverything dominated social media.
I pictured my parents in their basement apartment, watching their last hope for financial recovery vanish before their eyes.
Their final scheme crumbled to dust.
Once the media frenzy died down, I visited the county records office.
Vivian Reed was officially dead.
She died at that ridiculous funeral.
On paper, that identity was crossed out forever.
The woman who emerged was Sophia Reed.
Sophia—meaning wisdom. Reed—like a fresh start.
I treated Nathan to a farewell dinner in that same Imperial Grand ballroom.
I raised my glass: "To the best supporting actor in this drama."
Nathan laughed heartily: "Hardly! I was just a prop. Though I must say, writing that fake diagnosis was the most satisfying medical document of my career."
He assured me the foundation was already helping people, changing lives for the better.
I had complete faith in him.
I purchased a one-way ticket.
Destination: anywhere but here.
When the agent asked where I wanted to go, I closed my eyes and randomly pointed at the digital map.
"There," I said simply.
A coastal town I'd never even heard of.
Before boarding, I logged into my infamous account one final time.
Millions of followers. Thousands of messages and comments.
I didn't read a single one.
I posted just one final message:
"May the world treat your kindness better than mine was treated."
Then I hit "delete account."
Goodbye, Vivian Reed.
I found a cottage with a garden by the ocean and opened a small flower shop.
I named it "Phoenix Blooms."
Cliché? Maybe. But it felt right.
I never googled my former family again.
Their existence became irrelevant to mine.
My days filled with gardening, ocean walks, and all the books I'd never had time to read.
My soul finally found its peace.
One perfect afternoon, with golden sunlight streaming through the windows…
A man with kind eyes and an easy smile walked into my shop.
He noticed the rare black orchid blooming on my windowsill.
"That's an impressive specimen. You clearly have a gift."
He met my gaze, his eyes crinkling with genuine warmth.
I smiled back—a real smile that reached my eyes.
The sunlight bathed us both in golden warmth.
The past felt like a fever dream I'd finally awakened from.
And now that I was awake, everything was possible.
My real life was just beginning.