THE NIGHT BEFORE THEY BURIED MY MOTHER ALIVE

One year later.

The scent of roasted chicken, rosemary potatoes, and fresh apple pie drifted through the screen windows of our new home in Tybee Island.

The house was a cheerful, light-filled cottage sitting on a quiet bluff overlooking the ocean. Wide porches wrapped around the exterior, filled with rocking chairs, hanging flower baskets, and the constant, soothing sound of ocean waves rolling onto the sand.

Inside, the long wooden dining table was set for six.

My mother stood at the stove, humming a soft tune, checking the pie in the oven. Her graying hair was held up with a silver clip, her skin healthy and glowing, her hands nimble and sure as she worked in her kitchen.

The screen door clicked open, and Marcus Thorne stepped inside, holding a paper bag from the local market containing fresh coastal peaches.

"Afternoon, Evelyn," Marcus said, setting the bag on the counter and tipping his hat. "The weather outside is about as perfect as Georgia gets."

"Sit down, Marcus," Mom smiled, handing him a glass of sweet tea. "Dinner is almost ready."

Aaron Bell walked in from the back porch, where he had been sitting with me, going over my law school application for Emory University.

"She’s going to get a full scholarship, Evelyn," Aaron announced proudly, leaning against the doorframe. "Her personal essay on procedural justice is the best thing I’ve read in ten years."

I walked in behind him, smiling, and took my seat at the head of the table.

Nora ran into the room from the garden, her shoes sandy, her long hair blowing in the sea breeze, holding a small wooden box wrapped in a red ribbon.

"Mommy! Look what came in the mail!" Nora shouted happily.

Mom wiped her hands on her apron and sat down beside Nora at the table.

"What is it, baby?" Mom asked.

Nora carefully untied the ribbon and opened the box.

Inside, resting on a bed of dark velvet, was a beautifully restored silver pocket watch—my father’s watch. The old engraving on the back, polished until it gleamed like new, read:

To Daniel — True North Always.

Inside the casing, where Grant had once hidden the key to his destruction, Aaron had placed a tiny, perfect photograph of our family—Mom, me, and Nora—taken on the beach three weeks ago, all three of us smiling under the open blue sky.

My mother picked up the watch. She held it in her palm, feeling its steady, rhythmic tick against her skin.

It wasn't a symbol of pain anymore. It was a witness to time restored.

"It’s beautiful," Mom whispered softly, her eyes meeting mine, then resting on Nora’s bright, happy face.

We sat down together around the long table—my mother, my sister, Marcus, Aaron, and me.

Outside, the sun was beginning to set over the Atlantic Ocean, casting a warm, golden glow across the water, illuminating the quiet, peaceful world we had fought so hard to reclaim.

My mother lifted her glass of iced tea, her voice steady, warm, and filled with an eternal, unshakeable love.

"To the truth," my mother said softly.

We lifted our glasses together.