Chapter 19 - SIX MONTHS LATER
Six months changed everything.
I rented a small house with a porch and a maple tree out front.
Nothing about it was luxurious.
Everything about it belonged to me.
Mia grew quickly.
She had my dark hair.
Luka’s gray-green eyes.
And an impressive ability to scream whenever Luka attempted to sing.
“She hates music.”
“She hates your music.”
“There’s a difference.”
He looked offended.
I smiled.
Our arrangement was unusual.
There was no pretending otherwise.
Luka had become a father through a crime committed against both of us.
I had become a mother inside a marriage built partly on deception.
Neither of us wanted to build another lie on top of those.
So we moved slowly.
He visited.
He learned bottles.
Diapers.
Doctor appointments.
He never missed one.
When reporters appeared outside my house, his security team remained two blocks away because I had told him I did not want armed men on my lawn.
When Mia developed a fever at three in the morning, he arrived in eleven minutes wearing mismatched shoes.
I never asked how fast he drove.
Some questions are better left unanswered.
Ethan was sentenced after accepting a plea agreement.
His cooperation reduced the punishment, but it did not erase his crimes.
Before entering custody, he sent me one final letter.
Ava,
I spent years believing being afraid of losing something justified whatever I did to keep it.
It didn’t.
You were never mine to keep.
Neither was Mia.
I hope one day she learns I made one good decision before the end.
You don’t need to tell her the rest until you think she should know.
I am sorry.
Ethan.
I folded the letter and placed it in a box.
Not because I forgave him.
Because someday Mia might ask.
And I would tell her the truth.
All of it.
Victor Hale’s trial began in the fall.
Dr. Pike testified.
Vanessa testified.
The surviving investigator testified.
My father’s recordings were admitted into evidence.
Hale was convicted.
When the verdict was read, I expected triumph.
Instead, I felt quiet.
The man responsible for destroying so many lives could no longer reach mine.
That was enough.
Outside the courthouse, reporters shouted questions.
Luka placed himself between the cameras and Mia’s stroller.
I touched his arm.
“I can handle them.”
He immediately stepped aside.
I faced the microphones.
“My daughter was never evidence.”
“She was never a test.”
“She was never an heir designed to satisfy a dead man’s obsession.”
“She is a person.”
“And every person whose body or family was manipulated by this program deserves the truth.”
Then I walked away.
No dramatic victory.
No revenge speech.
Just freedom.
May you like
I thought that was the end of M-17.
I was wrong.
