“You know this means your life is over,” he said.

“You will not see the outside of a cell again.”

“I know,” I said.

I turned to look out the window at the harbor.

The sun was finally rising over the frozen expanse of Lake Michigan.

The light was cold and clean, turning the snow-covered docks a brilliant, blinding white.

Out on the gravel, I could see Isabella holding Eli’s hand as they walked toward the flashing lights.

Rachel Mercer ran toward them, throwing her arms around her son.

I watched them hold each other, their tears lost in the falling snow.

My sister looked back at the yacht, her eyes finding mine through the glass.

She did not smile, but she nodded once, a slow gesture of peace.

I held my hands out for the steel cuffs, feeling the cold metal bite into my wrists.

For the first time in my life, the weight of the shadow was gone.