EPILOGUE
CHARLOTTE
Ten Months Later
My eyes fixate on the clear partition as an uncomfortable plastic chair makes my back ache. Given the wide array of my mother’s crimes—murder, blackmail, bribery, political espionage, the list goes on—she was sentenced to life with thepossibilityof parole.Hopefully it’s a minuscule possibility.Her parental rights to the twins were also, thankfully, terminated.
It was a justified punishment, but I can’t deny the pain I felt trying to explain all of this to them. My mother was far from perfect, but in their seven-year-old brains, it didn’t matter—she wastheirs. And now, she’s gone.
Given my dad’s involvement, we gained guardianship of the twins during the trial.
Do I forgive him? Depends on the day.
Do I trust him with the other two humans I love most in the world to always look out for and protect them? Unfortunately not.
But that’s why they’re in our home now. It really didn’t take much convincing for Dad to let us adopt them. He knows we’re the best option for them.
Thankfully Tony and Luna help as often as they can, too, which made it possible for me to attend some classes this semester. It may take me longer than anticipated to graduate, but I’m still trying.
I’ve avoided seeing my mother, but we’re coming up on Gabriella’s first birthday, and I’m ready to close this chapter of my life so I can enjoy my family. Noah thankfully had a full recovery and is back to being one of the NFL’s best rookie quarterbacks.
The sound of screeching metal brings me back to the present.
Every nerve in my body fires off warning signs to leave, but I need to do this.
I need closure.
My mother’s tired eyes meet mine as she takes a seat on the other side of the partition. The polished politician is long gone, replaced by a worn, wary woman. Not even a faux smile for my benefit.
She picks up the corded phone, and I follow suit.
“It’s nice to see you, Charlie.”
Wish I could say the same.
“Hey.”
“How is Gabriella?” The idea of her even knowing my daughter’s name makes my veins buzz, but I ignore it.
“Good.”
“And the twins?” she asks.As if she actually cares.
“They’re fine,” I say.
“How’s school?”
I purse my lips. “Is this really what we’re doing? Bullshit small talk?”
“I don’t know what you want from me,” she says, exasperated. “You came to see me.”
Swallowing my anxieties, I ask, “Do you regret it?”
Her brows pull together. “Regret what?”
“The things you did.”
She tilts her head. “Of course I do.”