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The cold night air froze the breath in my throat. On the porch, the silence grew so heavy that even the distant hum of traffic on Westfield Avenue sounded miles away. / Chapter 10 / 10

Chapter 10 - The EpilogueFive years later.

The spring air in Washington, D.C., smelled of blooming cherry blossoms and endless possibility.

I stood on the front steps of the Hart Senate Office Building, wearing a sharp charcoal suit and holding a thick leather portfolio under my arm. At twenty-one years old, I wasn't just a college graduate with a degree in political science and public policy; I was a junior policy analyst working directly with the National Child Advocacy Coalition.

My phone buzzed in my pocket.

I pulled it out to see a photo message sent by Aunt Helena.

It was a picture of Mateo—now eleven years old, standing proudly on a middle school soccer field holding a first-place trophy, flanked by our other younger siblings who were all grinning ear to ear.

Beneath the photo, Aunt Helena had added a single text:

He scored the winning goal. Wish you were here, kiddo. We’re all so proud of you.

I typed back quickly:

Tell him I’ll be home for Sunday dinner. Save me a plate of pancakes!

I slipped the phone back into my pocket, took a deep breath of the spring air, and looked up at the towering white columns of the Capitol building.

May you like

The heavy mahogany door of the dressing room seemed to close in on us, trapping the suffocating tension inside. Richard’s hands were shaking as he clutched the small, tarnished silver pendant. His knuckles were bone-white.

The heavy mahogany door of the dressing room seemed to close in on us, t...

The heavy silver fork slipped from my fingers, clattering sharply against the gold-rimmed porcelain of my dinner plate.

The heavy silver fork slipped from my fingers, clattering sharply agains...

The heavy mahogany door of the Fairmont Copley suite clicked shut with a muffled, expensive thud.

The heavy mahogany door of the Fairmont Copley suite clicked shut with a...

The road that had brought me here had been forged through fire, forged through terror, and forged through the quiet, unbreakable courage of a sixteen-year-old girl who refused to let her story be rewritten by someone else.

I turned around and walked through the heavy glass doors, ready to change the world for every child who was still waiting for someone to listen.

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