Chapter 10: A Room of Her Own
Winter blanketed the city in white by the time the trial date was finally set. Clara had transitioned out of the confidential shelter and into a small, sunlit apartment on the outskirts of town. It lacked the sprawling square footage and marble countertops of her former life, but to Clara, it was a palace. Every second-hand plate in the cupboard and every potted plant on the windowsill belonged entirely to her.
Her hands had healed, leaving smooth, silvery scars across her palms. She no longer hid them beneath long sleeves; they were badges of her survival.
In the weeks leading up to the trial, Clara spent hours with the district attorney, going over her testimony. The prospect of breathing the same air as Mark and Eleanor terrified her, stirring up old anxieties that made her chest tight. But whenever the fear threatened to overwhelm her, she looked around her quiet, safe living room. She had fought too hard for her freedom to let them intimidate her now. She was ready.
