The arrests made the evening news. The trucking company’s CFO resigned, attempted to flee, and failed. Mason’s accounts were frozen. My parents’ house, the one they always promised would belong to Mason someday, was seized during the civil proceedings.
The wrongful death case settled before trial.
I used part of the settlement money to build the Lily Vale Memorial Playground behind her school, with yellow slides because she loved yellow, and a reading bench beneath a maple tree because Daniel believed every child deserved stories.
Six months later, I stood there at sunrise, watching children race through the gates.
Elise handed me a coffee.
“You okay?”
I looked at Lily’s name carved into polished stone. Then Daniel’s.
The grief was still there. It always would be. But it no longer occupied every room inside me.
My mother wrote to me from prison once.
We’re family. Please help us.
I folded the letter carefully, placed it back inside the folder, and closed it.
Then I walked into the sunlight, finally free.
