Chapter 7 - The Rising Sun
The private jet climbed steadily through the cotton-ball clouds, soaring high above the gray Atlantic coastline. Inside the spacious cabin, the atmosphere was warm, smelling of roasted coffee and fresh pastries.
Phoebe sat curled up on a plush leather lounge seat, her head bandaged with neat, professional precision, happily coloring in a princess book while Julian kept a watchful eye over her.
"How are you holding up, little sister?" Grant asked, walking over with a cup of hot tea and handing it to me.
I took the cup, wrapping my hands around the warm ceramic, and looked out the window as the golden rays of the morning sun broke across the horizon, painting the sky in brilliant shades of violet and gold.
"I feel lighter than I have in six years, Grant," I murmured, taking a sip. "I spent so much time trying to shrink myself to fit into a mold that wasn't built for me. I thought love meant enduring humiliation. I was wrong."
Grant placed a heavy, reassuring hand on my shoulder. "You never had to shrink yourself, Heather. You just forgot your own strength. But don't worry—nobody will ever make that mistake again."
Across the cabin, Phoebe looked up from her coloring book, her big blue eyes shining with excitement.
"Mommy, are we going to our real home now?" she asked, her voice clear and sweet.
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A genuine, radiant smile—the first real, unburdened smile I had worn in half a decade—spread across my face. I set my teacup down, walked over to my daughter, and scooped her up into my arms, pressing her close against my heart.
"Yes, my sweet princess," I whispered, kissing the top of her golden curls as the jet roared into the endless, open sky. "We're going home. And nobody will ever hurt us again."
