Chapter 7
Two days after the hearing, the doctor called.
My mom was awake.
I ran to the hospital, Daniel and Hannah right behind me.
I burst into her room, and there she was.
Propped up on pillows, her face thin, her hair gray and messy, but her eyes open.
Her eyes.
The same eyes that had held me when I was little, that had cried with me when Dad left, that had told me over and over I could be anything I wanted.
They were looking at me.
“Baby,” she whispered, her voice hoarse.
I ran to her, and threw my arms around her, crying so hard I could barely breathe.
“Mom,” I said. “I’m here. I’m so sorry. I love you so much.”
She stroked my hair, just like she used to when I had nightmares.
“I know,” she said. “I heard you. Every night. I heard you talking to me. I knew you were there.”
Daniel stepped forward, holding a bouquet of her favorite daisies.
“Hi, Mom,” he said, smiling softly.
She looked at him, then at the ring on my finger.
“You got married,” she said, a small smile tugging at her lips.
“We did,” I said. “I would have waited for you, but… things happened. I’ll tell you everything. I promise.”
Hannah stepped forward, shyly.
“Hi, Mrs. Carter,” she said. “I’m Hannah. Daniel’s sister.”
My mom held out her hand.
“Call me Sarah,” she said. “Olivia’s told me so much about you. Thank you. For saving my baby.”
Hannah’s eyes filled with tears.
She took my mom’s hand, and squeezed it.
“She saved me too,” she said.
The next few weeks were the happiest of my life.
My mom got stronger every day.
The doctors moved her out of the ICU, into a regular room.
Then, a week later, they said she could come home.
We fixed up the downstairs bedroom in our house for her, put in a hospital bed, hired a nurse to come in a few hours a day to help with her physical therapy.
She walked up the front steps on her own two feet, holding my hand, and said, “This is the first place that’s ever felt like home.”
Margaret was still in jail.
Her lawyer tried to get her released again, but the judge said no.
The trial date was set.
No more delays.
Two weeks.
We spent every night going over the evidence, practicing our testimony, meeting with our lawyer.
I was scared to testify.
Scared to stand in front of a courtroom full of strangers, and relive the worst night of my life.
Scared Margaret would look at me, and I’d fall apart.
But every time I got scared, I looked at my mom, laughing in the living room with Hannah.
I looked at Daniel, holding my hand, telling me I was the strongest person he knew.
And I knew I had to do it.
For them.
For me.
For every girl who’d ever been made to feel small by someone with more money and more power.
The night before the trial, I couldn’t sleep.
I went downstairs, and made myself a cup of tea.
Daniel found me there, sitting at the kitchen table, staring out the window.
He sat down next to me, and wrapped his arms around me.
“Nervous?” he said.
“Terrified,” I said.
He kissed the top of my head.
“Whatever happens tomorrow,” he said, “we win. We have each other. We have your mom. We have Hannah. She can’t take that from us. No matter what the jury says.”
I leaned my head on his shoulder.
“I know,” I said. “I just want it to be over. I want to stop looking over my shoulder. I want to be normal again.”
“We will be,” he said. “I promise.”
The next morning, we got to the courthouse early.
Our lawyer met us at the door, her face calm and confident.
“Today is the day,” she said. “We’ve got this.”
The courtroom was packed.
Reporters. Family friends. Curious strangers.
Margaret was brought in, in handcuffs, wearing an orange jail jumpsuit.
Her hair was messy. No makeup. No diamonds.
She looked old. Tired. Beaten.
She looked at me, and for a second, I saw hatred in her eyes.
Then she looked away.
She knew.
She knew she’d lost.
The trial lasted three days.
Our lawyer laid out the evidence, piece by piece.
She called Hannah to the stand.
Hannah testified about the gambling, about the stolen college fund, about recording Margaret in the hotel room.
She was brave. Steady.
Not once did she look at her mom.
She called Daniel to the stand.
He testified about the stolen trust fund, about the lies Margaret had told him, about disowning her.
His voice cracked when he talked about the night of the wedding, when he’d heard the recording for the first time.
Then she called me.
I walked to the stand, my legs shaking.
I raised my right hand, and swore to tell the truth.
Our lawyer asked me about the night before the wedding.
About the text. About Margaret showing up at my door. About the threat to kill my mom.
I told them everything.
Every word. Every detail.
I cried when I talked about the nurse’s call, about thinking I was going to lose my mom.
When I finished, the whole courtroom was silent.
A few of the jurors were crying.
Margaret’s lawyer cross-examined me.
He tried to make me look like a liar. Like a gold digger.
He yelled. He badgered. He tried to twist my words.
But I didn’t break.
I looked him right in the eye, and told the truth.
Over and over.
Because the truth doesn’t change.
May you like
It doesn’t bend. It doesn’t break.
And it was going to set me free.
