I had once mistaken authority for responsibility and wealth for security.

I had believed that if I gave my parents enough time, they would accept the child I loved.

They hadn’t, and my failure to confront that sooner had hurt her.

I couldn’t undo the past.

But I could change what she saw every morning, every ordinary day, and every Christmas to come.

We had not reached the end of every court proceeding, and my parents’ eventual consequences remained a matter for the law.

I didn’t know whether they would ever become people Chloe could safely know.