Chapter 8 - The Justice of Time
Ten years passed in a blink of warmth, growth, and healing.
The foundation we built became one of the most successful adoption advocacy groups in the state, helping hundreds of children find permanent, loving homes.
I grew up knowing my worth, supported by a father who never let me doubt for a single second that I was his daughter. I attended a wonderful university, graduating with a degree in family law, determined to spend my life fighting for children who, like me, needed an advocate.
Eleanor Hollister passed away during my junior year of college. She died alone in her luxury apartment, having alienated almost everyone who loved her. Even Robert and his family had stopped visiting her after the truth of her actions came to light.
On the day of her funeral, Michael and I stood at the back of the chapel. We didn't feel anger or hatred; we felt only a quiet pity for a woman who had valued bloodlines and pride over love and connection, and who had ended up with nothing but a cold legacy.
After the service, Robert walked over to us. He had grayed at the temples, but his eyes were kind.
"Lily," he said, holding out his hand. "You look so much like your mother. She would be so proud of you."
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"Thank you, Uncle Robert," I said, shaking his hand.
He looked at Michael, his eyes moist. "Thank you for saving this family, Mike. You showed us what really matters."
