Chapter 8

I graduated college. Top of my class. I became a lawyer. A prosecutor. I put people like Denise away. I helped victims. I protected children. I made sure no one else had to go through what we went through.

Ava graduated high school. She went to college too. She became a teacher. A kindergarten teacher. She loved children. She wanted to be the person who saw them. Who protected them. Who loved them.

My dad married Karen. They were happy. They traveled. They enjoyed life. My dad was finally at peace.

We had a family. A real family. Not perfect. Not without pain. But ours.

And we never forgot. We never forgot Mom. We never forgot what Denise did. We never forgot how close we came to losing everything.

But we also didn't let it define us. We didn't let the anger consume us. We didn't let the past ruin our future.

We lived. We loved. We thrived.

And one day, I was in court. Prosecuting a case. A woman who'd abused her stepchildren. Who'd stolen from her husband. Who'd lied and manipulated and destroyed.

I looked at her. And for a second, I saw Denise. I saw the cruelty. The lies. The manipulation.

And I won. I put her away. For a long time.

After the trial, the children—the victims—came up to me. They hugged me. They said thank you. They said I'd given them their lives back.

And I thought of Mom. I thought of Ava. I thought of the little girl I'd been, standing in a kitchen, covered in milk, terrified.

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And I knew. This was why. This was what it was all for. The pain. The fear. The loss. It had led me here. To this moment. To these children. To justice.

I was doing what I was meant to do.