My stepmom snatched the family drawing I’d spent a week making and threw it in the trash — she had no idea what my dad would do next.

A year to the day after Elena was transferred to the supermax, we stood on the beach behind our new summer house, the sun setting over the ocean, painting the sky pink and orange and gold.

It was a small party, just the people we loved.

Mark was there, grilling burgers, wearing a silly apron that said WORLD’S BEST UNCLE, his wife and two kids running around the sand with Mia.

Arthur was there, sitting in a beach chair with his wife, watching the waves, drinking iced tea.

Leo was there, his little sister Lila—now in remission, her hair growing back in soft, curly brown ringlets—building a sandcastle with Mia.

Rosa was there, passing out slices of Mia’s favorite chocolate cake, laughing as Mark tried to steal one before everyone else.

Mia ran over to me, her feet covered in sand, her pink ribbons askew, holding a seashell she’d found, the biggest, shiniest one on the whole beach.

“Look, Mommy!” she said, holding it up. “It’s for Daddy. I’m going to leave it here for him, so the waves can take it to heaven. Do you think he’ll like it?”

I knelt down, brushing a strand of hair off her sun-warmed cheek.

“He’ll love it, baby,” I said, my voice thick. “More than anything.”

She nodded, serious, and ran down to the water’s edge, setting the shell down right where the waves could reach it, standing there with her hands on her hips until a big wave rolled in and carried it away.

She ran back to the sandcastle, yelling for Lila to come see the new tower she was building.

Mark walked over, handing me a glass of lemonade.

“Can you believe it’s been a year?” he said, looking out at the kids, smiling.

I shook my head.

“No,” I said. “It feels like yesterday we were in that boardroom, fighting to take the company back. And it feels like a lifetime ago.”

A lot had changed in a year.

Langford-Voss was now one of the most successful companies in the world, with offices in twelve countries, over twenty thousand employees, a foundation that had helped more than two hundred thousand single parents build better lives for their kids.

I’d been named one of the most powerful women in the world by three different magazines.

But none of that mattered.

What mattered was the little girl building a sandcastle at the water’s edge, confident and brave and kind, who no longer woke up screaming from nightmares, who no longer flinched when someone raised their voice, who knew without a single doubt that she was loved, more than anything in the world.

What mattered was the family around me, the people who’d stood by us when the world was against us, who’d fought for us, who’d loved us even when it was hard.

Arthur walked over, holding a thick envelope in his hand.

“Got something for you,” he said, smiling, handing it to me. “It came in the mail this morning. From the state prison board.”

I opened it.

It was an official letter, stamped and signed.

Elena Hale had been found dead in her cell that morning, of a heart attack in her sleep.

No foul play.

No drama.

Just a quiet, lonely end, for a woman who’d spent her whole life chasing noise and money and power, and died with nothing.

I read the letter twice, then folded it up and put it in my pocket.

I didn’t feel happy.

I didn’t feel sad.

I just felt… nothing.

Like a chapter I’d been waiting to close for a very long time had finally, finally shut.

Mark looked at me, his eyebrows raised.

“Everything okay?” he said.

I nodded, smiling, looking out at Mia, who was now chasing Lila around the sand, both of them screaming with laughter.

“Everything’s perfect,” I said.

That night, after everyone had left, after Mia had fallen asleep in the car on the drive home, I carried her up to her room, tucking her in, kissing her forehead, making sure her rabbit was tucked under her arm.

I walked downstairs to the living room, and stood in front of the fireplace, looking at the two drawings hanging above it.

The crumpled, coffee-stained one I’d made two years prior, the one that had started it all.

The big, glittery one Mia had made the day Elena was gone forever.

I reached out, touching the glass of the frame, tracing the stick figures under the rainbow.

I thought of Daddy.

I thought of all the hard days.

I thought of all the good ones ahead.

A small hand slipped into mine.

I looked down.

Mia was standing there, her rabbit in her other hand, her eyes still sleepy.

“Couldn’t sleep,” she said, leaning her head against my leg. “I missed you.”

I picked her up, sitting down on the sofa in front of the fire, holding her in my lap, rocking her back and forth.

“Mommy?” she said, soft, after a few minutes.

“Yeah, baby?” I said.

“Are we ever going to be scared again?”

I kissed the top of her head, breathing in the smell of her strawberry shampoo, holding her tight.

“No,” I said, quiet, sure. “Never again. We’re safe now. We’re together. We have our family. And nothing, and no one, is ever going to hurt us again. I promise.”

She snuggled closer, her eyes closing, her breathing slowing down as she fell back asleep.

I sat there for a long time, holding her, watching the fire crackle, looking at the drawings above the mantel.

Outside, the wind blew softly through the trees.

Somewhere, a bird called.

The house was quiet.

Warm.

Full of love.

Full of life.

I thought of the letter Elena had sent me, the one that said I’d never win.

I thought of all the times I’d been scared, all the times I’d thought I’d lose Mia, lose the company, lose everything.

But I had won.

Not because I had more money.