Page 117 of The Chosen
Every bruise hidden beneath couture gowns and glittering jewels.
Tonight felt different.
Not simply because I’d intentionally planned for this to be a far cry from the stuffy galas I’d attended in my past life.
But because this wasn’t Victor’s world anymore.
This was mine.
A silent auction to benefit the women’s home I’d opened a few months ago.
“What do you think?” Henry asked from beside me, his voice smooth and deep. “Is it everything you hoped it would be?”
I turned toward him, momentarily forgetting every other person in the room.
God, this man was handsome. Trimmed jawline. Styled hair. A charcoal gray blazer paired with a white button-down shirt and dark jeans.
But the Henry I loved the most wasn’t this polished version.
It was the man in worn jeans and Henleys.
The man with rough hands and an overgrown beard standing in the kitchen of his cabin in Maine.
The man who looked at me as if I were a warrior.
“It’s even better,” I admitted, unable to rein in my smile. “I mean, look at all these people.”
My gaze swept over the room, landing on my mother as she stood next to the bar, laughing with her new boyfriend, Charles, her cheeks flushed with happiness.
Moving back to New York had been good for her.
While I hated living so far away, I respected her desire to spread her wings and live her life. And since moving to Staten Island, that was precisely what she’d been doing.
Beside Mom and Charles stood Gideon and Imogene, clearly enjoying a rare kid-free evening, although I’d caught Gideon showing off pictures of nine-month-old Emma to everyone who asked.
Even Sarah and her parents came. I expected nothing less, considering Sarah was integral in planning tonight. She found the warehouse space. Coordinated with artists willing to donate pieces. Used her online following to spread the word about the foundation.
Sometime over the past year, I’d stopped thinking of her as just Henry’s daughter. She’d become family.
Just like Henry had become mine.
“I never expected this,” I whispered, overwhelmed by the support friends, family, and complete strangers had shown me over the past several months.
“What is it your mom always says?”
I furrowed my brow. My mom had said a lot of things. I was surprised Henry paid enough attention to remember anything.
Then again, he’d grown quite close to my mom over the past year.
“Love is stronger than hate,” he stated. “People want to support something good. Especially when it’s born out of something painful.”
Emotion tightened my throat.
There had been a time when it was difficult to talk about my past with Victor. Some of the things I endured were so personal. So…humiliating.
But after I shared my story, women started reaching out to me. Thanking me. Telling me they’d left abusive husbands after hearing my story. Saying they finally felt seen.
If my story could help someone else escape their own situation, I’d do everything to keep telling it. Which was why I felt compelled to start this foundation.
