My husband hurled a dinner plate at my head because I refused to give his mother my apartment and pay her $1,200 every month.

Five years later.

The summer afternoon was warm and golden as I walked through the peaceful green courtyard of the Evelyn Cross Women’s Center in St. Paul.

Children were playing on the lawn, their laughter echoing through the sunlight, while mothers sat on cedar benches, reading, talking, and preparing for their upcoming university classes.

I stopped near the center’s central fountain, looking up at the bronze plaque mounted against the stone wall:

“YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHAT YOU ARE CAPABLE OF.” Dedicated to every survivor who chose to rebuild.

My phone rang in my pocket. It was my assistant at Cross & Vance Architectural.

"Ms. Cross, the international board just voted. You've officially been awarded the Gold Medal for Sustainable Architecture in London."

"Thank you, Sarah," I smiled, looking at the children playing near the water. "Schedule the press conference for tomorrow morning."

I hung up the phone and looked up at the endless blue sky.

I had received a letter from the federal prison system three months ago. Jackson’s legal team had filed an appeal for early medical release due to his chronic health issues.

The judge had denied it within ten minutes.

Genesis was living in a state-subsidized senior facility, completely forgotten by the high-society circles she had once worshipped.

Their darkness had tried to consume me, but instead, it had pushed me into the light.

I didn't hate Jackson anymore. I didn't hate Genesis. Hate required energy, and my energy was reserved for building a future that no predator could ever tear down.