Chapter 15 - THE BIRTHDAY
Six months passed. Spring arrived soft and green. We moved into a warm, sunlit house with a yard and a garden—somewhere quiet, far away from cameras and lawsuits. Rose grew round and lively, taking her first steps babbling both “Lily” and “Dada” with equal enthusiasm. Lily enrolled in a new school, made friends, laughed again.
On Lily’s ninth birthday, we decorated the living room with streamers and balloons. Her cake had pink frosting and nine candles. Rose sat in her high chair, clapping delightedly.
Before blowing them out, Lily closed her eyes a long moment.
“What did you wish for?” I asked afterward.
She looked at me, serious. “I wished Mommy could be here. And that no little girl ever has to be as brave as I was.”
My throat tightened. I knelt and pulled both my girls close. “You are the bravest person I know. And Clara sees you. She knows how well you fought. How well you loved.”
That night, after the girls were asleep, I sat looking at Clara’s journal. We had won. The Harrington empire was broken. Justice was being served. But Clara remained gone. A hole in our lives nothing could truly fill.
May you like
I traced her handwriting gently. Adrian, if you find this—love our girls. Be there. Be the man I knew you could be once.
“I am trying,” I whispered to the empty room. “Every day. I am trying.”
