They signed three days later in Elias’s conference room. No one celebrated. Mom cried quietly while writing her name. Dad signed without looking at me.

Chapter 10 — Harbor House

The transferred property was an aging three-story building near a commuter station. My parents had bought it years earlier meaning to turn it into luxury offices, but the project had stalled.

I could have sold it. Instead, I renovated it. The two upper floors became furnished transitional apartments for women escaping financially controlling homes.

The ground floor became a technology-training center with child care and evening classes. Terrence connected me with a nonprofit that helped families rebuild after sudden displacement.

The building opened fourteen months after the wedding. We called it Harbor House. Not after me. Not after my family. Simply Harbor House.

On opening day, a woman in her forties stood inside one of the apartments holding a brass key. Her daughter ran to the window and announced she could see the train.