The truth had spoken.
And my daughters had heard it.
The reception continued.
Michael’s father made a short speech that brought laughter back into the room. The music grew louder. The girls danced with their cousins, and Chloe and Michael cut their wedding cake beneath a shower of applause.
Later, Chloe came to find me outside on the terrace.
The sun was setting over the garden, turning the sky a deep shade of gold.
She slipped her arm through mine.
“You okay, Dad?”
I smiled.
“I’m supposed to ask you that.”
“I know. But I’m asking you first.”
I considered the question.
For fifteen years, I had believed that justice would mean Elena finally understanding what she had done.
Perhaps I had imagined her crying, apologizing, and admitting that I had been right all along.
But none of that could give the girls back the childhood they had missed with their mother.
