Chapter 20 - The Legacy
Years later, the townhouse on the river was filled with the sound of laughter, tiny running footsteps, and the warm hum of a life rebuilt from the ashes.
Leo was six years old now, running across the hardwood floors with a sketchbook in hand, chattering excitedly about dinosaurs and space rockets. Julian visited every Sunday, acting as the cool, protective uncle Leo adored, teaching him how to ride a bike and reminding us both that blood didn't define family—loyalty, truth, and fierce, unconditional love did.
Sometimes, late at night when the house was quiet, I would sit by the window and look at the reflection of the city lights shimmering on the water. I would think back to that terrifying night—the blood on my face, the doorknob rattling in the dark, the cold tile beneath my knees, and the moment I pressed record on my phone.
It was the moment everything changed.
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The moment I stopped running, stopped hiding, and started fighting.
My phone buzzed on the coffee table. A simple text message from Clara, checking in before our annual family dinner this weekend.
