Chapter 10 - The Unseen Ledger
Late that evening, back in the quiet sanctuary of my downtown penthouse, I sat at the cherry-wood dining table with a single sheet of blank paper and a heavy gold fountain pen.
The city lights twinkled outside the tall arched windows like a constellation of distant, harmless stars. The nightmare of the limestone prison, the hospital trauma bay, and the maximum-security glass partition felt like a lifetime away.
I unscrewed the cap of the pen, ready to write the first draft of the foundation’s charter for the coming year—a blueprint for saving hundreds of women who were still trapped in the dark, waiting for their own moment to reclaim their lives.
My phone chimed softly on the corner of the table. I glanced down at the screen. It was an automated notification from the federal correctional registry, a standard legal update regarding my ex-husband’s inmate status.
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I didn't even open the message. I simply swiped the notification away, letting the screen fade to black.
Some stories don't need a sequel in the shadows. They belong entirely to the dawn.
