I had believed, for eleven years, that making myself smaller and quieter and more compliant was the only way to keep my family whole.

And I understood now how completely wrong I had been.

I took a deep, clear breath of the cool night air.

I had not just inherited a fortune, that autumn.

I had not just inherited a skyscraper, or a house, or a trust.

I had inherited my life back, the whole of it, the self I had spent eleven years slowly giving away, returned to me at last with interest.

“Mom!” Fiona called out from the dining room, her voice full of pure, unbothered, uncomplicated joy.