She let out a tiny yawn and went back to sleep.

“It’s over, Vivian,” Grace said, turning to look at me from the front seat.

“The papers are signed, and the court orders are in place.”

“They can never touch her again.”

“Thank you, Grace,” I said.

We drove away from the Whitmore building, leaving the chaos behind.

The clouds were beginning to clear over the East River.

For the first time in a year, I felt like I could take a full breath.

My daughter was safe.

Her future was secure.

The cost had been high, but we had paid it.

And we had won.