He crossed the room and placed his hand in mine.
For years, Spencer had told me that the house, the money, and the staff should have been enough to make me grateful.
He never understood that safety is not a locked gate, trust is not obedience, and a family is not something one person gets to own.
That enormous house had never felt like mine.
But when both of my sons were finally inside it without anyone hiding, drugging, or silencing them, it no longer mattered whose name appeared on the deed.
The doors were open.
The cameras were off.
And when one of my children cried, no one told me I was imagining it.
