“I should have seen it.”
“She was very good at what she did,” I’d replied.
“She made it easy for us to believe what we wanted to believe.”
Now, I was planning a real party for Cedric’s eighth birthday—a backyard barbecue with his friends, homemade decorations, and a grandmother who was not only invited but was helping to plan it. “I want to do it right this time,” Damon had said. “A party where everyone who loves him is welcome.”
I thought about the woman I’d been a year ago: lonely, manipulated, and grateful for any scrap of affection.
That woman was gone, replaced by someone who knew her worth.
The financial settlement had rebuilt my retirement savings, but the fight had rebuilt my soul. I would never again be anyone’s victim.
As I watched the last rays of sun disappear, I felt a deep sense of peace. I had my grandson.
I had my self-respect.
We were both, finally, free.
