I found the earrings under the table. Vivienne, my longtime client, rushed over. “They’re mine! I’m… so embarrassed. I thought someone had stolen them.”
Her words stung, though she didn’t mean harm. A few days later, her assistant Lorna came to my salon, nervous. “You didn’t take them. Her husband did. He’s gambling again. She didn’t want you to feel blamed.”
Turns out, Vivienne’s life was quietly unraveling. She was scared — not just of Harold’s relapse, but of losing everything: her business, her staff’s livelihoods, even her mother’s security.
She called me one evening. “I just need a friendly face.” I listened as she broke down. I wasn’t a lawyer, but I reminded her: she’d built everything herself — and she could protect it.
So she did. Quietly, strategically, Vivienne secured her business, separated assets, and prepared. When Harold forged documents to take loans against the boutiques, she’d already flagged the fraud.
He was arrested. She was free.
Months later, she sat in my chair again, smiling. “You helped me see clearly.”
That day, I understood: even small voices can spark big courage.
