“I sentence you to the maximum. Nine years in state prison. No parole for at least five.”
Daniel slammed his fist on the table. “She’s lying! She’s a gold digger! I make the money! She’s nothing without me!”
“Actually,” Ms. Darden interjected calmly. “We submitted Sarah’s tax returns. She earns thirty percent more than you do. You were spending her money to gamble.”
Laughter bubbled up from the back of the room. It was the final humiliation.
Judge Holt turned her gaze to the gallery.
“Agnes and Victor Mercer,” she said, her voice like steel. “You are not leaving this courtroom free. Based on the evidence of conspiracy and the testimony regarding prior abuse, I am ordering the bailiff to take you into custody. You will face charges of Conspiracy to Commit Assault and Obstruction of Justice.”
“No!” Agnes shrieked as the officer grabbed her wrists. “I am a mother! I was protecting my son!”
“You were protecting an abuser,” the Judge said. “Take them away.”
As they dragged Daniel out, he locked eyes with me. He didn’t look sorry. He looked furious that his property had rebelled.
But I didn’t look away. For the first time in years, I held his gaze until the door closed behind him.
Two months later.
I was in the delivery room. Ethan was holding my left hand. Clara was holding my right.
“Push, Sarah! You’re almost there!”
The pain was different this time. It wasn’t the pain of a stick hitting my ribs. It was the pain of life. It was a productive pain.
And then, I heard it.
The cry.
They placed him on my chest. He was wet, warm, and perfect. He had ten fingers and ten toes.
“Hi,” I whispered, kissing his damp forehead. “Hi, Miles.”
I named him Miles because of the distance we had traveled. Miles away from the fear. Miles away from the house on Elm Street.
Ethan looked down at him. “He looks like you.”
“Good,” I said. “He’s going to be kind. I’ll make sure of it.”
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