Page 121 of Say You're Mine

The drive home is a blur of conflicting emotions. Relief wars with lingering rage, joy at the thought of seeing Cara and Onyx tempered by the knowledge that Elaine still breathes.

When I walk through the door, the sight that greets me steals my breath. Cara, curled up on the couch, Onyx nestled against her chest. They're both asleep, perfect and peaceful.

I move closer, drinking in the sight of them. Onyx's tiny fist is curled around a lock of Cara's hair, her rosebud mouth working in her sleep. Cara stirs as I approach, her eyes fluttering open.

"Hey," she murmurs, voice husky with sleep. "You're home."

The simple words shatter something inside me. I drop to my knees beside the couch, burying my face in Cara's lap as the first sob wrenches free.

"Shh," Cara soothes, her free hand coming to rest on the back of my neck. "It's okay, baby. We're okay."

I cry then, really cry, for what feels like the first time in years. All the pain, the fear, the rage – it pours out of me in great, heaving sobs.

When I finally lift my head, Cara's looking at me with such love it makes my heart ache. "Feel better?" she asks softly.

I nod, wiping my eyes. "Yeah. I... I'm sorry. For everything."

She shakes her head, cutting off my apology. "No more sorrys. We're here, we're together. That's all that matters."

Onyx chooses that moment to wake, her tiny face scrunching up as she lets out a disgruntled wail. I laugh, the sound watery but genuine.

"Someone's not happy about being left out," I say, reaching for her. Cara passes her over, and I cradle my daughter close, marveling at how small she is, how perfect.

"Hey there, little one," I murmur, pressing a kiss to her downy head. "Daddy's home."

The next few weeks are a whirlwind of legal proceedings and sleepless nights. Amethyst's testimony is the nail in Elaine's coffin, her brave recounting of the horrors she endured leaving no doubt as to the depths of Elaine's depravity.

I sit through every day of the trial, Cara by my side, her hand warm in mine. We watch as Elaine's empire crumbles, her carefully crafted façade stripped away to reveal the monster beneath.

When the verdict comes down – guilty on all counts, life in federal prison without possibility of parole – I feel... nothing. No satisfaction, no relief. Just a bone-deep weariness.

"It's over," Cara whispers, squeezing my hand. "We won."

I nod, trying to muster up some enthusiasm. But all I can think about is Onyx, waiting for us at home. About the life we have ahead of us, free from Elaine's shadow.

As we leave the courthouse, dodging reporters and flashing cameras, I pull Cara close. "Let's go home," I say, suddenly desperate to see our daughter. "I need... I need to hold her."

Cara's eyes soften with understanding. "Of course. Home it is."

The drive is quiet, each of us lost in our own thoughts. But when we walk through the door and I see Onyx in my mother's arms, something inside me finally settles.

"There's my girl," I breathe, reaching for her. She coos as I lift her, her tiny hands patting my face.

"How'd it go?" my mother asks, her eyes searching our faces.

"It's done," Cara says simply. "She's going away for good."

My mother nods, satisfaction and relief warring on her face. "Good. That's... that's good."

I look down at Onyx, at her innocent face and bright eyes. She'll never know the pain we've endured, the scars we carry. And in that moment, I make a silent vow.

No more vengeance. No more letting the past dictate our future. From this moment on, every decision I make will be for her. For our family.

"I love you," I tell Cara, meaning it more than I ever have before. "Both of you. You're everything to me."

Cara's eyes fill with tears as she wraps her arms around us, completing our little circle. "We love you too," she murmurs. "Always."

The days blend into a routine of feedings, diaper changes, and stolen moments of rest. Life with a newborn is exhausting and exhilarating in equal measure. Onyx's every coo, every smile, is a balm to our wounded hearts.

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