Katherine nodded and tucked the letter away.
“There’s one more thing,” she said. “The recovered funds. We got back almost all of it. Two hundred and eighty million dollars. After legal fees and restitution, you’re looking at about two hundred and sixty million back in your accounts.”
I nodded. “Put it in a trust for Sophie. She’ll have access when she turns twenty-five.”
“All of it?”
“All of it. I don’t want his stolen money. I built my fortune once. I can do it again.”
Katherine smiled. “You’re something else, Amelia Hayes.”
“No,” I said, watching my daughter. “I’m just a mother who wants to do right by her kid.”
That night, after Katherine left, I sat in Sophie’s nursery and told her a story.
Not a fairy tale.
Not a lie.
The truth.
“Your father tried to kill us,” I said softly, rocking her in my arms. “And your grandmother helped him. And for a long time, I was angry. I was so angry I thought it might break me.”
Sophie yawned, her tiny fingers wrapped around one of mine.
“But then you were born,” I continued. “And I realized that anger was just another prison. Another way of letting them control my life.”
I pressed a kiss to her forehead.
“So I’m choosing something different. I’m choosing to build a life so full of love and safety and joy that what they did becomes just a story. Just a dark chapter we survived.”
Sophie’s eyes drifted closed.
“I’m choosing us,” I whispered. “Every single day.”
And in that moment, sitting in the quiet nursery, I finally felt it.
Peace.
Not the absence of pain.
But the presence of something stronger.
Hope.
July brought a surprise visitor.
I was in the garden, Sophie napping in her carrier beside me, when Marcus appeared on the path.
“Mrs. Hayes. You have a visitor.”
I straightened, immediately tense. “Who?”
“She says her name is Evelyn Cross. She’s—” Marcus hesitated. “She’s your father’s sister.”
My father’s sister.
Aunt Evelyn. I hadn’t seen her since my father’s funeral. She’d sent cards over the years, but I’d never responded.
