Chapter 10
A year later.
I was sitting in the office of Linda’s House, going through paperwork, when my secretary buzzed me.
“Emily? There’s a woman here to see you. Says her name is Sarah Jenkins. She says she has information about Vanessa Miller.”
I sat up straight. “Send her in.”
A young woman walked in. She was about twenty-five, with long brown hair and a nervous expression. She was holding a manila envelope.
“Mrs. Bennett? Thank you for seeing me. I’m Vanessa’s cousin. Well, her half-cousin. We haven’t spoken in years. But she called me last week. From Argentina. She’s in trouble. Bad trouble.”
“Argentina?”
“She’s been living in Buenos Aires for a year. She met a guy down there. Another con man. He took all her money. Left her broke. She’s working in a bar to survive. She’s scared. She wants to come home. She says she’ll turn herself in. She’ll give back every penny she has left. She’ll testify against Ryan again. Whatever you want. She just doesn’t want to die down there.”
Sarah slid the manila envelope across the desk.
“Here’s her address. Her phone number. Everything. She says she’s sorry. For everything. She knows she messed up. She knows she hurt a lot of people.”
I looked at the envelope.
For a year, I’d hated Vanessa. I’d wanted her to rot in prison. I’d wanted her to suffer.
But looking at Sarah, I saw myself. A year ago, I’d been the one sitting in a stranger’s office, scared, alone, asking for help.
I picked up the phone. I called the FBI.
An hour later, they had Vanessa in custody in Buenos Aires. She was extradited back to Texas a week later.
She stood in front of me in the visiting room of the county jail. She looked terrible. Thin. Pale. Her hair was cut short. She had a black eye.
“Emily,” she said, crying. “I’m so sorry. For everything. I was stupid. I was greedy. Ryan told me I’d be rich. That I’d never have to work again. I didn’t know he was a murderer. I swear to God. If I’d known, I never would have helped him.”
“How much of the ten million is left?”
“Two million. The rest… the guy in Argentina took most of it. I spent some on clothes, a house. I’m sorry. I’ll pay it back. Every penny. I’ll work for free for the foundation for the rest of my life. Just don’t let me go to prison for forever.”
I looked at her.
She was a victim too. Just like me. Just like Clara. Just like Linda. Ryan had used her. He’d manipulated her. He’d thrown her away when he was done with her.
“Here’s the deal,” I said. “You plead guilty to fraud and conspiracy. You testify in Ryan’s appeal—if he ever gets one. You work for the foundation for ten years. No pay. You talk to every woman who comes through our doors. You tell them your story. You tell them how Ryan manipulated you. How easy it is to fall for a man like him. If you do all that, I’ll ask the judge for leniency. Five years probation. No prison time.”
Vanessa cried harder. “Thank you. Thank you so much. I won’t let you down. I swear.”
She kept her promise.
She pled guilty. She started working at the foundation the day she got out of jail. She talked to hundreds of women. She told them her story. She helped dozens of them leave abusive relationships. She became one of our best counselors.
Ryan appealed his conviction. The court denied it. He appealed again. Denied again. He would die in prison.
That summer, Lila turned nine.
We had a big party at the ranch. All her friends from school came. Jake and Mia brought their friends. We had a pony, a bounce house, a clown.
Lila was happy. She hadn’t had a nightmare in six months. She was doing great in school. She’d made the all-star soccer team. She rarely mentioned Ryan anymore. When she did, it was like she was talking about a stranger she’d met a long time ago.
That fall, Clara and I started talking about expanding the foundation. We wanted to build more shelters. In Houston. In Austin. In San Antonio. We wanted to help women all over Texas.
We were sitting at the kitchen table one night, going over blueprints for the new shelter in Houston, when Clara looked up at me.
“Emily, there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you.”
“What?”
“Have you thought about… dating again?”
I laughed. “No. Never. Men are nothing but trouble. I’m done with all that.”
“Come on. Not all men are like Ryan. There are good guys out there. You deserve to be happy. To be loved.”
“I am happy. I have you. I have the kids. I have the foundation. I don’t need a man to make me happy.”
Clara smiled. “I know. But it wouldn’t hurt to go on one date. Just to see. I have this friend. Mark. He’s a pediatrician. Divorced. No kids. He’s nice. He volunteers at the shelter every weekend. He’s nothing like Ryan. I swear.”
I rolled my eyes. “Fine. One date. But if he’s a creep, I’m blaming you.”
The date was terrible.
Mark was nice. Too nice. He talked about his cat the entire time. He cried when he told me about a patient he’d lost. I spent the whole dinner staring at my wine glass, waiting for it to be over.
When he dropped me off at the ranch, he tried to kiss me. I turned my head. He kissed my cheek.
“I had a great time,” he said. “Can I see you again?”
“Sure,” I lied. “I’ll call you.”
I never called.
Clara laughed when I told her. “Told you dating was a bad idea.”
But a month later, I met someone.
His name was Daniel. He was a firefighter. He’d come to the foundation to do a safety training for the kids at the shelter. He was tall, with dark hair and a scar across his left eyebrow. He was quiet. He didn’t talk much. But when he did, people listened.
He asked me out for coffee. I said yes.
We talked for three hours. About the foundation. About the kids. About his job as a firefighter. He told me he’d grown up in foster care. That he knew what it was like to be alone. To be scared.
I told him about Ryan. About the trial. About everything I’d been through.
He didn’t look at me like I was broken. He didn’t look at me like I was a rich heiress. He looked at me like I was just… Emily.
We started dating. Slowly. Carefully.
He met the kids two months later. Lila loved him. He taught her how to throw a baseball. Jake thought he was the coolest guy in the world because he was a firefighter. Mia made him a macaroni necklace.
A year later, we got married.
It was a small wedding. Just family and close friends. We got married on the porch of the ranch, under the oak tree. Lila was my maid of honor. Jake was Daniel’s best man. Mia was the flower girl.
Crawford walked me down the aisle.
My dad’s old baseball glove was on the altar, next to my mom’s favorite Bible. I knew they were there.
Daniel didn’t have much money. He didn’t have a fancy job. He didn’t have a trust fund.
But he was honest. He was kind. He loved me for who I was. Not for my money. Not for my name.
He was real.
That night, after the wedding, we sat on the porch swing, watching the stars. Daniel had his arm around me.
“Are you happy?” he asked.
I leaned my head on his shoulder. I looked at the ranch. At the house my parents had left me. At the life I’d built out of nothing but pain and lies.
I thought about Ryan, rotting in prison. About Vanessa, helping women at the foundation. About Linda, whose name was on a shelter that helped hundreds of women every year.
I thought about Lila and Jake and Mia, asleep in their beds, safe and happy.
I thought about Clara, my sister in every way that mattered.
I thought about my parents.
“I’m happier than I ever thought possible,” I said.
Daniel kissed the top of my head.
“Good. You deserve it.”
I closed my eyes.
May you like
For the first time in my life, I was home.
Really home.
