---- Chapter 16 Elaina Higgins POV: Two years later, the Art for Hope Foundation was hosting its first major charity gala. The event was held in a beautifully restored historical building in Portland, the very city where | had first fled to start my new life. The gallery | had opened, once a symbol of my escape, was now a thriving business and a key partner in the foundation's work. The ballroom was filled with art collectors, philanthropists, and artists, all gathered to support our mission: providing scholarships and grants to women artists who had overcome significant trauma. It was a culmination of everything | had worked for, a testament to the idea that beauty could be born from even the most profound pain. | stood near the entrance, greeting guests, wearing a simple but elegant deep blue gown. Graham was by my side, his hand testing gently on the small of my back. His presence was a quiet, constant source of strength. He was no longer just the kind bookstore owner; he was my partner, my best friend, my anchor in a world that had once felt so turbulent. "You've built something incredible here, Elaina," he whispered in my ear, his voice warm with pride. | squeezed his hand. "We built it," | corrected him. He had been ---- with me every step of the way, his unwavering support the bedrock upon which | had rebuilt my life. Awoman | didn't recognize approached us, her eyes wide with admiration. "Ms. Higgins? | just wanted to thank you. I'm one of the first recipients of the Art for Hope scholarship. Your foundation... it changed my life." Tears welled in her eyes, and in mine. We spoke for a few minutes, her story of escaping an abusive relationship and finding solace and purpose in her painting a powerful reminder of why | had started this journey. Later, as | was making my way through the crowded room, | saw a familiar face. Mark, Derek's former best man. He looked older, more tired than | remembered. He was standing alone by the bar, looking out of place amidst the glittering crowd. He saw me and his eyes widened. He took a hesitant step towards me. "Elaina," he said, his voice quiet. "You look... amazing." "Thank you, Mark," | said, my tone polite but distant. "| read about what you're doing," he said, gesturing around the room. "It's incredible. Derek would be... he would be proud." The mention of his name was like a ghost passing through the room. It no longer held the power to wound me, but it still carried a weight, a history that could never be erased. ---- "| hope so," | said simply. "|... | just wanted to say I'm sorry," he stammered, his gaze dropping to the floor. "For everything. | knew... | knew what he was doing was wrong. | should have said more. | should have stopped him." "It wasn't your battle to fight, Mark," | said, and | was surprised to find that | meant it. The anger had long since faded, leaving behind a quiet, settled peace. "We all make our own choices. And we all have to live with the consequences." He nodded, a look of profound sadness on his face. "He lost everything, you know. After you left. The company, his friends... himself. In the end, all he had was regret." | didn't know what to say to that. There was nothing left to say. Graham appeared at my side, his presence a comforting shield. He slid his arm around my waist, a silent signal of support. Mark looked at him, then back at me, and a small, sad smile touched his lips. "I'm glad you're happy, Elaina," he said, his voice sincere. "You deserve it." He turned and walked away, disappearing into the crowd. Graham pulled me closer. "Are you alright?" | leaned my head against his shoulder, inhaling his familiar, ---- comforting scent of old books and fresh coffee. "| am," | said, looking around the ballroom at the vibrant art on the walls, at the faces of the women whose lives we were helping to change. | thought of Derek's final act, of the immense, destructive force of his love and regret. His story had ended in tragedy, a dark and lonely demise born from his own actions. But my story... my story was just beginning. | had taken the wreckage of my past and built something new, something beautiful, something hopeful. True justice wasn't about revenge. It was about creating a life so full and joyful that the shadows of the past could no longer touch you. The auction was about to begin. | took Graham's hand, and together, we walked towards the stage, towards the bright, promising future we were building together. The past was a closed book. My story was now my own to write. And it was going to be a masterpiece.