Chapter 8 - The Mediterranean HorizonOne year after the cancelled honeymoon, Clare stood at the railing of a magnificent private yacht cruising off the sun-drenched coast of Amalfi.
The sea stretched out before her in an endless sheet of sapphire blue, sparkling beneath the warm Italian sun.
She wore a classic linen sundress and wide-brimmed straw hat—the exact hat Ethan had once called “too theatrical.”
Around her, a small group of high-profile clients laughed and toasted glasses of chilled prosecco, celebrating the successful launch of Bellweather Journeys’ new Mediterranean expedition line.
"Clare?"
She turned around. It was Marco, the Italian captain of the yacht, holding a silver tray with two glasses of vintage champagne.
"Everything is set for our arrival in Capri this evening," Marco said with a warm, charming smile. "The cliffside villa is prepared, and the private chef has curated the menu according to your specifications."
"Thank you, Marco," Clare said, taking a glass and raising it toward the horizon.
May you like
She didn't look back at the past. She didn't think about the white roses from a wedding that never truly mattered, or the man who thought he could trade her away like a spare ticket.
She was exactly where she belonged—at the helm of her own life, sailing toward a horizon entirely of her own design.
