Chapter 10 - Seacliff Point
Six months later, the spring sun was brilliant and warm over the rugged bluffs of Seacliff Point.
The salt air whipped through my hair as I stood near the edge of the cliff, looking out over the endless expanse of the deep blue Atlantic. My collarbone had healed completely; the scars on my temple had faded into faint, silvery lines that reminded me not of defeat, but of survival.
Beside me, my father stood with his hands tucked into the pockets of his coat, a proud, peaceful smile on his face.
Behind us, a large wooden sign stood at the entrance of the newly cleared meadow:
**SEACLIFF HAVEN: A PERMANENT SANCTUARY FOR SURVIVORS OF DOMESTIC ABUSE.**
*Endowed by the Grace Bennett Foundation.*
"Ethan took the plea deal yesterday," Dad said softly, the wind carrying his words.
I nodded. "How long?"
"Twelve years without the possibility of parole," Marcus answered. "He’ll serve it in a maximum-security state facility. His civil appeals were dismissed with prejudice. He won't have a dime when he walks out."
"And Margaret?"
"Living in a subsidized one-bedroom apartment in the valley," Dad said. "Working as a receptionist at a municipal parking office. Nobody in high society will take her calls."
A quiet laugh escaped my lips. Twelve marble stairs. A family that thought they ruled the world because they wore gold and spoke loudly. They had pushed me down thinking I would break into dust, never realizing that the foundation beneath me was made of solid granite.
"Are you happy, Grace?" my father asked, looking down at me with those warm, protective eyes that had watched over me my entire life.
May you like
I took a deep, full breath of the ocean air, feeling the strength in my chest, the freedom in my bones, and the wide-open horizon stretching before me without limits.
"I’m free, Dad," I replied, slipping my arm through his. "And for the first time in my life, I know exactly who I am."
