Chapter Two Hundred and Fifteen

Alicia’s POV

The first woman who came to the foundation was named Maria.

She was twenty-eight years old, had two children under five, and a black eye she’d tried to cover with makeup that was the wrong shade for her skin tone. I recognized that attempt at concealment immediately because I’d done the same thing countless times with Travis.

"Thank you for seeing me," she said, her voice barely above a whisper as she sat across from me in the small office we’d set up in town. "I saw your website. Read about what you do. I don’t know if you can help me, but I had to try."

"Tell me what’s happening," I said gently, keeping my hands visible on the desk between us, making sure nothing about my posture seemed threatening or judgmental.

She told me. About her husband who’d seemed perfect at first. About how the controlling behavior had started small and grown. About the first time he hit her, how he’d cried and apologized and promised it would never happen again. About how it kept happening anyway, getting worse each time. About how she’d tried to leave twice before and he’d found her both times, convinced her to come back with promises and threats in equal measure.

"I have nowhere to go," she finished, tears streaming down her face. "My family disowned me when I married him. I have no money of my own. He controls everything. And I’m terrified that if I leave again, he’ll kill me. But I’m more terrified of what will happen to my children if I stay."

I knew that fear. Had lived it. Had felt that same paralyzing terror of staying versus the equally terrifying prospect of leaving.

"You’re not going to go back," I told her, my voice firm with certainty. "We’re going to help you. We have a safe house where you and your children can stay, somewhere he can’t find you. We have lawyers who specialize in domestic violence cases who can help you get a restraining order and file for divorce. We have job counselors who can help you find work and childcare assistance so you can support yourself. We have therapists who can help you and your children process the trauma. We have everything you need to build a new life."

"I can’t afford any of that," she said, shaking her head. "I don’t have money—"

"It’s all free. Everything. That’s the point of the foundation. No woman should have to stay in an abusive situation because she can’t afford to leave."

She stared at me like I’d just offered her the world. "Why would you do this? You don’t even know me."

"Because I was you. Three years ago, I was sitting where you’re sitting right now. Terrified and trapped and convinced I had no options. Someone helped me escape, and now I want to help you do the same."

"Your husband?" she asked, gesturing to my wedding ring.

"My second husband. The first one was the one who hit me. Who made me feel small and worthless and convinced me I deserved everything he did to me. But I got out. Built a new life. Found real love and real happiness. You can have that too, Maria. You deserve that too."

She broke down completely then, sobbing so hard her whole body shook. I came around the desk and held her while she cried, this stranger who felt like a sister, someone who understood exactly what she was going through because I’d lived it myself.

When she finally calmed down enough to talk, we made a plan. She’d go back to the house one more time with a social worker as protection to collect her children and essential documents. We’d have the safe house ready. We’d have lawyers standing by. We’d have everything in place to make sure she never had to go back.

"Thank you," she said as she was leaving. "Thank you for believing me. For not asking what I did to make him angry or telling me to try couples counseling or any of the other things people say when they don’t understand."

"I understand. And you’re going to be okay. I promise you, you’re going to be okay."

After she left, I sat in the office for a long time, shaking. Not from fear or sadness, but from the overwhelming realization of what we were doing. We were changing lives. Saving lives. Giving women hope when they thought they had none left.

This was what my mother had done. This was the legacy she’d started and I was continuing.

I drove home in a daze, my mind still on Maria and her children, on the logistics of getting them out safely, on making sure nothing went wrong.

Malachi was in the living room with Lia when I walked in. She was on a play mat on the floor, trying to grab toys just out of her reach while he encouraged her.

"How was your day?" he asked, looking up.

"Life-changing. We helped our first client today. A woman with two kids who needed to escape her husband."

He stood immediately, crossing to me and pulling me into his arms. "How do you feel?"

"Terrified that something will go wrong. Overwhelmed by the responsibility. But also more certain than ever that this is what I’m supposed to be doing."

"Tell me about her," he said, and we sat on the couch while I explained everything, his arm around me, Lia playing contentedly nearby.

"We’re extracting her and the kids tomorrow," I finished. "The social worker will go with her. We have the safe house ready. The lawyers are on standby. Everything is in place."

"And if the husband shows up? If he tries to stop her?"

"We have security. People you trained actually. They know how to handle situations like this without anyone getting hurt."

"Good. That’s good." He was quiet for a moment. "Are you going to be there?"

"No. The team advised against it. Said my presence might escalate things. So I’ll be here, waiting to hear that they’re safe."

"That’s going to be hard for you. Not being there."

"It is. But it’s the right call. This isn’t about me. It’s about getting Maria and her children out safely."

Lia made a frustrated sound. She’d been reaching for a toy and couldn’t quite get it. Malachi got down on the floor, moved the toy closer to her. She grabbed it triumphantly, stuffed it immediately in her mouth.

"She’s determined," he observed.

"She gets that from both of us."

"Poor kid. Doomed to be stubborn from birth."

I laughed, feeling some of the tension from the day ease. This was my life now. Helping women escape during the day. Coming home to my husband and daughter at night. Both parts equally important. Both parts equally me.

"Thank you," I said.

"For what?"

"For understanding why this matters. For supporting it even when it’s hard and scary and means I’m not here as much."

"Stop thanking me for being a decent human being," he said, but his voice was gentle. "This is important work. World-changing work. I’m proud of you." 𝒇𝙧𝙚𝓮𝙬𝙚𝓫𝒏𝓸𝓿𝓮𝒍.𝓬𝙤𝓶

Lia threw her toy. Looked at us expectantly to retrieve it.

"She’s figured out that game," I said.

"She’s brilliant."

"Obviously."

He retrieved the toy. She threw it again. He retrieved it again.