Chapter Eleven: The Legacy
I never returned to my old life.
But I started making peace with it.
Morrison visited occasionally.
He'd bring updates on the case—new victims coming forward, new charges being filed, new evidence revealing the full extent of Richard's crimes.
"He'll be in prison for a long time," Morrison said. "Probably the rest of his life."
"Good."
"The Thompson family's assets are being seized. That money is going to domestic violence charities and victim support programs."
"Even better."
"There's something else."
"What?"
Morrison hesitated.
"You could come back."
"Come back?"
"To the work. We could use someone with your skills. Someone who understands how the system fails people. Someone who's willing to do what's necessary."
I thought about it.
Then I looked at Lily.
She was painting in the garden, her easel set up in the morning sun.
She'd survived.
She was thriving.
May you like
And that was enough.
"Thanks, Morrison," I said. "But I'm exactly where I need to be."
