Chapter 8
Sentencing day came two weeks later.
Diane was sentenced to five years in prison for embezzlement and fraud.
Brendan got two years, plus he was ordered to pay back every penny he’d stolen from Veridian.
The judge also terminated his parental rights, saying he’d proven himself unfit to be a father, that his actions had shown a complete disregard for me and for Lila’s well-being.
It was final.
Brendan would never be able to claim Lila as his own.
He’d never be able to hurt her, or me, ever again.
After the sentencing, Arthur took me out for lunch.
“You did it,” he said, smiling at me. “You won.”
I looked out the window, at the people walking by, living their lives.
“I didn’t do it alone,” I said. “I couldn’t have done any of this without you.”
Arthur reached across the table, covering my hand with his.
“Your grandfather would be proud of you,” he said. “You built something amazing. And you protected your daughter. That’s all he ever wanted for you.”
I smiled, my throat tight.
My grandfather had always told me to be strong, to never let anyone make me feel small.
I’d forgotten that for a while, when I was with Brendan.
But I’d remembered it just in time.
Over the next few months, life settled into a rhythm.
I went back to running Veridian, bringing Lila to the office with me most days.
I had a nursery set up next to my office, and a nanny who watched her while I was in meetings.
The employees loved her.
They’d stop by my office to say hello, to hold her, to bring her tiny gifts.
It was the kind of family I’d always wanted—people who cared about me, not for my money, but for who I was.
I started a foundation for single mothers who’d faced domestic abuse.
I wanted to help other women who’d been in my position, who’d felt small and scared and alone.
The foundation provided housing, legal help, childcare, and job training.
It gave women the tools they needed to stand up for themselves, to build better lives for themselves and their kids.
It was hard work, but it was worth it.
Every time I met a woman who’d escaped an abusive relationship, who’d started a new job, who’d built a safe home for her kids, I felt a warmth in my chest I’d never felt before.
I was making a difference.
One day, I was at the foundation, talking to a group of new clients, when I saw a familiar face in the doorway.
Liam.
My childhood best friend.
I hadn’t seen him in years, not since I’d married Brendan and lost touch with everyone who cared about me.
He was a doctor now, working at the local hospital, and he’d come to volunteer at the foundation’s free clinic.
He smiled when he saw me, the same warm, kind smile I remembered from when we were kids.
“Cassidy,” he said, walking over. “It’s good to see you.”
My heart skipped a beat.
“Liam,” I said, smiling back. “What are you doing here?”
“Heard you were running this place,” he said. “Figured I’d offer my help. You always did have a way of taking care of people.”
May you like
I looked at him, and for the first time in a long time, I felt something I hadn’t expected.
Hope.
