They Buried Me a Bride. I Returned a CEO
"You were so brave, baby. I'm so proud of you."
She beamed at that, the simple, uncomplicated pride of a seven-year-old who had no idea her own blood was about to become a weapon in a war she couldn't begin to understand. I held onto that image the whole drive home, her star sticker catching the afternoon light every time she moved her arm, because it was easier than thinking about what Alessia's satisfied smile actually meant, or what new cruelty she'd engineered to arrive exactly when we least expected it.
Two days. Then the hearing. Then, one way or another, an answer to a question that had been hanging over all of us since that first anonymous warning arrived.