My phone buzzed on the mahogany desk. It was an alert from the foundation’s legal team: the pediatric emergency fund had just successfully bypassed bureaucratic delays to approve immediate life-saving treatments for twelve children across the country, entirely funded by the seized assets of Ximena’s shell corporation.
I smiled faintly and picked up the framed photograph Brendan had sent months ago—the one of him smiling with Chloe when she was barely a month old, before the corporate machine consumed his humanity. I set it gently beside the urn and whispered a quiet promise into the empty room.
“You changed the world, my sweet girl,” I murmured softly. “And no system will ever lock you out again.”
