PART 17: THE VISITATION CENTER
PART 17: THE VISITATION CENTER
Six months later, the spring of 2027 brought blooming pink cherry blossoms to the parks of Portland.
I walked down the steps of the family services center, carrying Lily on my hip while Noah held my hand, walking beside me with proud, unsteady steps.
Daniel was standing by the curb, waiting for his ride.
He had just finished his twelve-month mandatory rehabilitation program, and his supervision restrictions had been lifted to allow unmonitored weekend visits.
He looked healthy. His face was clear, his eyes steady.
When he saw the children running toward him, his face lit up with a genuine, unforced happiness.
"Daddy!" Lily squeaked, reaching out her tiny hands.
Daniel caught her, lifting her high into the air before pulling Noah into a warm hug.
He looked up at me, his eyes filled with a deep, quiet gratitude.
"Thank you, Claire," he said softly. "For not keeping them from me. For giving me a chance to be better."
"They deserve a father, Daniel," I said, offering a small, polite nod. "As long as you stay on this path, you will always be a part of their lives."
"I will," he promised. "I'm working at a local logistics firm now. Just a dispatcher. But it’s honest work."
"I know," I smiled gently. "I bought that firm last week."
Daniel blinked, a sudden look of shock crossing his face before he burst into a soft, appreciative laugh.
"Of course you did," he murmured. "The new boss."
"Take care of them this weekend, Daniel," I said, turning back toward my car where Marianne was waiting.
May you like
As I walked away, I felt no weight in my chest. No fear of the past.
The Whitmore name had been cleansed of its poison, and a new generation was growing up under the sun.
