Chapter 10

Five years after I walked out of that hospital with Clara in my arms, I stood in the backyard of my little house and watched my daughter chase butterflies.

She was five now. In kindergarten. She loved dinosaurs and painting and asking too many questions.

Noah was there, flipping burgers on the grill. My mother was setting the table. James was helping Clara make a daisy chain.

It was a Sunday. Our Sunday. Our family.

James came over and put his arm around me. "You okay?" he said.

I leaned into him. "I'm perfect."

And I meant it.

Garrett was still in prison. He'd appealed once. Denied. He'd written me letters. I never opened them. He was my past. And I was done with the past.

The foundation had helped over three hundred women. We'd expanded to three cities. Women I'd never met wrote me letters, telling me my story had saved their lives.

I was thirty-four now. I had scars. Bad dreams some nights. A flinch when a man raised his voice too loud.

But I also had a daughter who laughed too loud. A brother who called every day. A mother who hugged me like she'd never let go. A man who loved me exactly as I was.

And I had myself. The woman I'd been before Garrett. The woman I'd found again—stronger, wiser, braver.

Clara ran over to me, holding a butterfly she'd caught in her hands.

"Mama! Look! It's so pretty!"

She opened her hands. The butterfly flew away. She laughed and chased it.

I watched her go. My beautiful, fearless girl.

"She's going to change the world," James said.

"She already has," I said. "She changed mine."

That night, after everyone left, after Clara was asleep, I sat on the porch with a glass of wine. The stars were out. The air was warm.

I thought about the woman I'd been five years ago. Broken. Afraid. Trapped. Alone.

She was gone.

In her place was a woman who'd fought. Who'd escaped. Who'd taken down a powerful man and built a new life from the ashes.

A woman who was safe. Loved. Confident.

I raised my glass to the stars.

"To freedom," I said.

Somewhere, a cricket chirped. The wind rustled the trees. Clara laughed in her sleep.

And I smiled.

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Because my life—our life—was just beginning.

The end.