Ariston pulled Elo into his arms right there in the courtroom. She buried her face in his chest and sobbed, but this time they were tears of relief.
“We won,” Sky said, jumping up and down. “We won.”
Elo reached for her.
“We did it,” she said.
“You did it,” Sky corrected. “You were so brave.”
Outside the courthouse, reporters waited with cameras and microphones, shouting questions. Ariston didn’t stop. He simply held his daughter’s hand in one hand and placed the other on Sky’s shoulder and walked them straight past the cameras, straight to the car, straight home.
Healing would take time, but for the first time, it could really begin.
In the weeks that followed, Ariston made a decision. Guilt gnawed at him—the signatures he’d given without reading closely enough, the meetings he’d attended instead of noticing his daughter’s pain.
One night at dinner, he cleared his throat.
“I’m starting a foundation,” he said. “For children who’ve been hurt by people they trusted.”
Elo looked up.
“Really?” she asked.
“Really,” he said. “It’ll provide therapy, legal help, safe places to go. And…” He swallowed. “I’d like to name it after you, if that’s okay.”
“The Eloin Vale Foundation,” she said slowly.