Melanie, who had wanted to take my fiancé and my family’s fortune, lost her freedom instead.

A month after I left the hospital, I asked Wyatt to drive me to the cemetery.

Harvey Berry was waiting by my grandfather Walter’s grave, holding a small package wrapped in a blanket.

“Walter wanted this to survive,” he said, and uncovered it.

It was a thick wooden board, burnt black along the edges. The only piece left of the crib my father had destroyed.

And in the center, hand-carved, five words.