Chapter 10
A year later.
The snow was falling softly on the cabin, covering the trees in white. Lily was 4 now, running around the front yard with Mia, who was visiting for Christmas, both of them throwing snowballs at Hank, who was pretending to be hurt, falling dramatically into a drift. Ethan was standing on the porch, holding two mugs of hot cocoa, smiling at me.
I leaned against the doorframe, sipping my cocoa, watching them. My hand went to the scar on my left palm—the one I’d gotten that night on the mountain, when I’d grabbed a jagged rock to try to break the SUV window. It was a reminder. Of where I’d been. Of how far I’d come.
Amelia walked out of the cabin, carrying a tray of cookies, wrapping an arm around my shoulder. “Penny for your thoughts?”
I smiled. “Just thinking. About how lucky we are.”
She nodded, looking at Mia and Lily, who were now building a snowman together. “We are. A year ago, I thought we’d never be happy again. I thought Victor would always be there, hanging over us.”
“He is in the past,” I said. “Where he belongs.”
The trial for Dave had been quick. He’d testified against Victor, admitting he’d been on Victor’s payroll for 10 years, that he’d helped plan the mountain “accident” with Sarah, that he’d been the one to burn down Hank’s cabin. The added charges had added another 50 years to Victor’s sentence. He’d die in that cell, alone, with nothing but his hate to keep him company.
Hank had gotten a letter from the FBI a month prior, saying they’d finally closed Sarah’s case, that her death was officially ruled a homicide, that her name had been cleared. He’d cried when he read it, holding the letter to his chest for hours. Sarah could finally rest in peace.
Ethan and I had gotten married in the summer, a small ceremony in the backyard, just our family and a few close friends. Lily was the flower girl, Mia was the maid of honor, Hank walked me down the aisle. It was perfect. Nothing like my first wedding, which had been big and flashy and full of lies. This was real. This was love.
Lily ran over to me, her cheeks pink, holding out a snowball. “Mama! Come play! Grandpa’s being silly!”
I laughed, setting down my cocoa, grabbing her hand, running into the snow with her. Ethan followed, throwing a snowball that hit Hank square in the chest. Amelia laughed, joining in, the five of us running and laughing, the snow falling around us, the cabin warm and bright behind us.
That night, after everyone was asleep, I walked out onto the porch, looking up at the stars. I thought of the night on the mountain, of how close I’d come to dying, of how I’d prayed for the strength of a lioness. I’d gotten that strength. Not just for Lily. But for myself. For Amelia. For Mia. For Sarah. For every woman who’d ever been told she was weak, who’d ever been left for dead, who’d ever been told her story didn’t matter.
I’d learned a lot in the last two years. I’d learned that strength isn’t about not being scared. It’s about being scared and fighting anyway. I’d learned that family isn’t about blood. It’s about the people who show up, who love you, who protect you no matter what. I’d learned that the people who think they’re the strongest—the ones who use money and power and fear to control everyone around them—are actually the weakest. Because they have no one to love them. No one to fight for them. Nothing real to hold onto when everything falls apart.
And I’d learned the most important lesson of all: no one gets to write your ending but you.
Victor had thought he’d finished my story on that mountain. He’d thought he’d get to be the hero, the grieving husband, the powerful CEO who always won. But he’d forgotten one thing.
I was the one holding the pen.
May you like
I turned around, walking back into the warm cabin, closing the door on the cold and the past. My family was inside. My future was inside. And it was more beautiful than anything I’d ever dared to dream.
The lioness had won.
