When she picked up, my voice barely rose above a whisper.
“Mara… I need you.”
“What is it?” Her voice cut sharply through the line.
For ten years, she had been the only one to visit me, the only person who looked at me without disgust, the only one I could trust.
I drew in a shaky breath. “I want to overturn the verdict. I need to clear my name.”
There was silence. I feared she’d hung up, that she’d given up on me too.
“Clara… I’ve been tracking every lead, gathering evidence. Give me seven more days. Just seven days, and I’ll get you the justice you deserve.”
Something inside me broke. My chest ached—not with pain, but with relief. “Thank you,” I whispered.
When the call ended, I looked around. The streets were empty. Darkness pressed down. I had nowhere to go. No home. No family. No one waiting.
Except him.
And the house we once shared, still holding pieces of my daughter: Isla’s shoes, her drawings, her laughter hidden in the walls.
I walked for hours. My feet bled, went numb, but I kept going.
When I reached the gate, I paused. Damian hadn’t even changed the lock.
My hands trembled as I punched in the code. The door swung open effortlessly.