Chapter 10
The final trust hearing was on a Tuesday in late October.
The sky was bright blue, the air crisp, the first hint of fall in the Phoenix heat.
Mark walked with me into the same small courtroom where I’d filed the restraining orders months earlier.
The judge who’d signed them was on the bench again, smiling when he saw me.
“Ms. Reed,” he said, looking over the papers in front of him.
“We’re here today to finalize the permanent terms of the federal trust left to you by your father, Judge Elias Reed. After reviewing all the filings, the evidence of the attempted coercion, and the trust documents themselves, it is the ruling of this court that the trust is irrevocable, permanent, and fully under your sole control. No person, now or in the future, will ever be able to seize, sell, or coerce you into signing over the property at 42 East Monroe Street. It is yours, fully and completely, for the rest of your life, and to whomever you choose to leave it to when you are gone.”
He banged his gavel.
“Case closed.”
I cried then, happy tears, as Mark hugged me, as the court clerk handed me the signed order, thick and official, my name typed bold at the top.
I walked out of the courthouse, the papers clutched to my chest, and took a deep breath.
It was done.
Every last loose end tied up.
I drove straight to the condo, parked in the garage, and walked up the stairs to the front door.
I unlocked it, stepped inside, and stood in the middle of the living room, the sun streaming through the windows, painting the blue walls gold.
I walked over to the wall where my dad’s law degree hung, next to our fishing photo.
I touched the frame, my fingers brushing the glass.
“We did it, Dad,” I whispered.
“I kept it safe. I kept me safe. I hope you’re proud.”
A soft knock on the door made me turn.
Mrs. Lopez was standing there, holding a Tupperware of my favorite lemon cake, a big smile on her face.
Behind her, Zoe held Lily, who was clutching a crumpled piece of construction paper in her hand.
Behind them, Mark and Lila, holding a bottle of champagne and four glasses.
“We heard the good news,” Mrs. Lopez said, pushing past me into the kitchen.
“Time to celebrate.”
Lily wiggled out of Zoe’s arms, ran over to me, and held up the construction paper.
It was a crayon drawing of five people holding hands, under a big yellow sun.
Me, her, Zoe, Mrs. Lopez, and a man with a big mustache, wearing a judge’s robe.
“Dat’s you, Auntie Mia,” she said, pointing to the tallest girl.
“Dat’s me, Mommy, Grandma Lopez, Mark, and your Daddy. He’s watching from the sun.”
I knelt down, hugging her so tight she giggled, the drawing pressed between us.
“It’s perfect, baby. The best drawing I’ve ever seen.”
We spent the rest of the afternoon in the backyard, the weather perfect, the champagne cold, the lemon cake sweet.
Lily ran around chasing butterflies, Zoe and Mrs. Lopez laughed as they watched her, Mark and Lila talked about an upcoming fundraiser for the domestic violence coalition.
I sat on the patio chair, looking around at the people I loved, the home my dad had built, the life I’d reclaimed.
I thought about that night six months earlier.
About the blood in my eyes, the ringing in my ears, the sound of Karen laughing.
About how small I’d felt.
How scared.
How I’d thought my life was over.
It hadn’t been over.
It had just been beginning.
I had a job I loved, work that mattered.
I had a home that was mine, untouchable, safe.
I had people who loved me, who saw me, who would never hurt me.
I had myself back.
The girl I’d been before Tyler, before the lies, before the pain—she was still here.
Stronger now.
Wiser.
Ready for anything.
Zoe sat down next to me, handing me a glass of champagne.
“To you,” she said, raising her glass.
“To fighting back. To winning. To new beginnings.”
We all clinked our glasses.
“To new beginnings,” I said.
I took a sip, looking up at the sky, the sun warm on my face.
Somewhere, I knew my dad was smiling.
I was safe.
I was loved.
May you like
I was home.
And for the first time in my life, I knew, without a single doubt, that everything was going to be okay.
