Mia was hanging decorations. It was a simple wooden star that she had painted herself.
‘A little to the left,’ I said from the kitchen, where I was stirring hot chocolate.
‘It’s perfect as it is,’ she replied with a smile.
She is nine now. She goes to therapy twice a week. The nightmares have become less frequent. She has stopped trembling.
She wore a warm scarf. No bruises. No marks.
I walked over to her and handed her the mug.
‘Do you miss the big house?’ I asked. It was a question I sometimes asked, just to check.
She looked at me. ‘The big house was cold,’ she said. ‘Even in summer. This house is warm.’
She sat on the carpet. ‘Liam?’
‘Yes?’
‘Have you heard about our father?’
‘Arthur,’ I corrected her. ‘His name is Arthur.’
‘Arthur,’ she said. ‘Have you heard?’
‘Yes.’
Arthur Sterling was beaten to death in prison three days ago. It seems the other inmates didn’t like child murderers very much. My mother was serving three life sentences.
‘I’m not sad,’ Mia said quietly. ‘Is that bad?’
‘No,’ I said, sitting down next to her. ‘It means you’re healing.’
‘We’re not gone,’ she said, looking up at a star.
‘No,’ I replied. ‘We’re not gone.’
I looked at my reflection in the window. I was no longer an ‘advertising platform.’ I was a brother. I was a guardian.
The phone rang. I looked at the caller ID. It was the adoption agency—the legitimate one I was now working with to expose the fraud.
‘I need to answer this,’ I said.
Mia nodded. ‘I’ll leave you some cookies.’
I walked to the window, watching the snow. It was now falling gently, covering the city in a soft white blanket. It wasn’t attacking the world; it was cleansing it.
I answered the phone.
‘This is Liam,’ I said.
‘Liam, we have a case,’ said the voice on the other end. ‘A boy. Ten years old. The system is failing him. He needs a replacement. Someone who will understand.’
I looked at Mia. She was laughing at something on the television. She was safe. She was happy. We had a place.
‘Send me the file,’ I said.
I hung up the phone. I looked at my sister again.
The Sterligov legacy is dead. It’s buried under lies and greed.
But our legacy? It’s just beginning.
‘Mia,’ I said. ‘How would you treat your brother?’
She looked up, her eyes wide. Then she smiled—a smile that reached her eyes, bright, warm, and alive.
‘Does he like hot chocolate?’ she asked.
‘I think so,’ I replied.
Outside, the snow continued to fall, but inside, the fire burned brightly. And for the first time in my life, I wasn’t grateful for their crumbs. I was full.
The End.