Chapter 10 - The Horizon
Three years later, the spring air in Raleigh was fragrant with blooming azaleas and freshly cut grass.
I stood on the front lawn of our newly expanded home—we had finally added that sunroom David had been promising me for years—watching Eliza, now nine years old, expertly ride her own bicycle down the paved driveway alongside Brooklyn, who was visiting for a weekend sleepover.
Both girls were laughing, their seafoam-green and pink bicycles gleaming in the afternoon sunlight. There were no broken frames, no twisted metal, no lurking shadows of manipulation or fear. Just pure, unadulterated childhood joy.
My phone buzzed gently in my cardigan pocket.
I pulled it out. It was a calendar notification reminding me of an upcoming board meeting at the firm where I was now a senior partner. Beneath it, my banking app displayed a clean, healthy balance—every dollar earned through my own hard work, protected by unbreakable legal boundaries, and shared only with the people who truly loved and respected me.
David walked out onto the front porch, wrapping his arms around my waist from behind and resting his chin on my shoulder.
"What are you smiling about, counselor?" he asked softly, kissing the side of my head.
May you like
I leaned back against his chest, watching Eliza and Brooklyn circle back toward the driveway, their laughter ringing out like music in the quiet afternoon air.
"Just auditing the books, honey," I whispered, smiling out at the wide, beautiful horizon. "And everything is balancing out perfectly."
