Chapter 19
Five years later, I stood in a courtroom again.
Not as a victim.
As a witness advocate.
A singer had drugged his girlfriend and called her unstable.
Her mother found our center.
Our lawyers found the records.
Our doctors found the truth.
The jury believed her.
When the verdict came, she turned and hugged me.
“How did you keep going?” she asked.
I thought about lying.
Then didn’t.
“I didn’t always. Some days I just stayed.”
She nodded like that was enough.
It was.
I visited my father’s grave every year on his birthday.
I told him about the center.
About Leo.
About Dr. Chen’s terrible coffee.
About Eleanor’s habit of terrifying insurance executives into doing the right thing.
One autumn afternoon, Leo came with me.
He was nine.
Tall.
Quiet.
He placed a drawing by the stone.
It showed my father wearing a cape.
“I never met him,” Leo said. “But Maribel says he saved people.”
“He tried.”
“So do you.”
I smiled.
“So do you, when you tell the truth.”
He leaned against my side.
“Can I call you Aunt Gen?”
The question undid me.
Not mother.
Not obligation.
Something chosen.
“Yes,” I whispered.
He grinned.
“Okay, Aunt Gen.”
For the first time, Christian’s son felt completely separate from Christian’s harm.
A child.
May you like
Loved.
Free.
