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“I never thought I would ever find my happiness. I was content. Rosie is everything to me. But then I met you and my world upended. And now… now I don’t think I could ever live without you.” I tilt my head to look up at him. “I love you, Ben. So, so much. I love you with everything I have.”
Eyes alight, he leans in, kissing me softly, with tenderness, careful to not hurt my injured lip. Pulling back, he looks into my eyes, then back down at Rosie, before meeting my gaze again. “I love you, Em. I’m more in love with you than I thought was possible. And I love Rosie. You are both a part of me now, and I feel like the luckiest man alive.”
“Mommy…” Rosie's little voice says as she wakes up, almost as if she’s heard our declarations.
“Hey, honey,” I whisper, leaning back to look at her, wiping my tear-stained cheeks in the process.
“Mommy!” she says, more jovial as I grab her and pull her to me. She crushes me with her weight, nearly jumping out of Ben’s arms and into mine, and while my body groans, I don’t mind. I need her more than the air I breathe. I lie back down with her in my arms, tucking her in tight, her body curling into my side.
“I’m here. We are going to be alright. Grandpa George too. We are all going to be alright.”
George is Jeremy’s dad; that realization comes back to me in a rush. I had no idea. Absolutely none. There was never any mention. No photos at George’s house, and I didn’t see anything when I helped him pack up Glenda’s things when she passed. My chest feels heavy with the information, and I am not sure how I feel about it. But as I look down at my daughter, I slowly smile, knowing that all this time she has been spending time with who has turned out to be her true grandpa. And I know he loves us.
“We are going to be alright, Rosie,” I whisper again into her hair, and for the first time in her short life, with us both wrapped in Ben’s arms, I believe the words I say to her.
EPILOGUE - 12 MONTHS LATER - BEN
I rub my hands under the table, then take a drink of water. It’s warm, having been sitting here with me all day, and doesn’t give me the relief I need.
It has been a year since the incident with Jeremy, and while I know my two girls are tucked in safely at the estate we all call home, I am waiting for the final verdict.
“All rise,” the voice to the right says, and I stand, flattening my tie. Michael is next to me. Eddie and Tennyson right behind me. Harrison in his office, no doubt pacing, waiting for the news.
George sits with them too. He has been here for every day of the trial, gave his evidence, and was cross-examined thoroughly. It has been tough, but he is now part of my family too, and we lean on each other, our two main priorities being Em and Rosie.
My eyes focus in on the jury as they deliver their verdict. To say the past twelve months have been turbulent is an understatement. Em has had to relive a lot of her past, which was hard to hear and harder to watch. I spent many nights cuddling her to sleep before I dreamed all night about the things I wanted to do to Jeremy. My mother had to take the stand, and for the first time in her life, she was truthful. It seems that when she found out about what her antics had actually caused, she was a little remorseful. But she hasn’t seen Emily or Rosie since that day. I forbid it. Her toxicity is not allowed anywhere near my family.
“We find the defendant guilty on all twelve charges,” the juror says, and the courthouse erupts.
I feel slaps on my back from my brothers and Michael, and I hang my head, relief sweeping through me. It has been a hard year for me and the firm. As soon as I learned the full extent of the situation, I packaged up all of Beasley’s files and sent him a final letter of service, cutting all ties. This was soon followed by legal letters outlining his blackmailing Em and forcing George’s hand to sign. Beasley settled out of court and gave the school back to George immediately in return for the case being kept private—and even better, the ten million was kept as donations to the two charities George specified. But still, his reputation started to fall into tatters, his business matters becoming affected. Last I heard, Beasley was finding it hard to secure long-term legal support and had burned many bridges within the business community. He is not the high roller he once was.
Jeremy has lived a relatively free life these past twelve months. He has appeared in court when needed, but other than surrendering his passport, life hasn’t changed for him. Until today.
I watch as Jeremy is handcuffed and taken by the guards into holding until a bail hearing, at which point it is just formalities. I know the judge, and I know he will throw the book at Jeremy.
Now as the guard walks him out, he doesn’t look at me. His life is now over. His business deals will all freeze or be sold, and he is looking at many years behind bars. I can’t say that he has learned his lesson, though. Men like him rarely do.
“Well done, Benny Boy,” Tennyson says as I step through the aisle, and he pulls me close. Tennyson is many things, but he is always there for me.
“Good work, brother,” Eddie says, gripping my shoulder. I can’t speak, so I just nod, the emotions in me overwhelming.
“Let’s go tell Em,” George says, coming up and shaking my hand, and all us boys walk out, past the media scrum, and straight to Ralph waiting outside.
Straight home to my girls.
* * *
“So, Ben, do you think we can read Cinderella again tomorrow?” Rosie asks as I pack away the fairy tale into the book box in her room. The pages have been read so many times, they are starting to become worn. Her room is full of pink, very girly, and not at all how I designed this space initially. Toys, books, cushions, rugs, you name it, Rosie has it—in pink.
“Don’t you get sick of the same story every night, Rosie?” I ask as I take a seat in the chair next to her bed. My reading chair, where I sit every night, reading her a chapter at a time.
Rosie is thriving. It took her a little while to get used to my place. But she now walks around with her cane independently, and loves to run freely in the large gardens. Every night, I read her a fairy tale before bed, tucking her in tight, ensuring she knows she is always loved and safe with me.
“No way. Cinderella is my favorite story ever,” she says through a yawn as I pull the blanket up around her chin and kiss her forehead.
“Alright, Cinderella again tomorrow. Sleep well, Rosie,” I say, turning on her nighttime sounds, and she is asleep almost instantly. I watch her settle for a second before I walk out of her room, closing the door quietly.
The house is quiet, but not empty. There is so much life in here now; I can’t believe how bare it was before. Every light in the place is on. The kitchen, although clean, has potted herbs, colorful towels, and Rosie's artwork on the fridge. It all brings a smile to my face as I walk down the hall to find Em, knowing exactly where she will be.
