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I know what he’s asking. As terrible as those last few months in Serendee were, the majority of our lives there seemed stable. Familiar. It would be easier to go back to what we knew than living this life of unknowns.

“We can’t take her…” his forehead is creased, and he gazes at me and then back down to the little girl, “can we?”

I look down at her, at those same blue eyes that Rex has, and I want to say no. That we’re moving forward and leaving all of this behind, but Margaret is right. She’s family. She’s Rex’s only blood relative that he has left. We can’t allow Anex to destroy this little one’s life too.

“We can,” I say, feeling it in my chest. “But we should talk it over with the guys first—”

“They’ll say yes,” he says with zero hesitation.

“And probably my mom,” I add.

He reaches into the crib, running his finger down her pink cheek. “We’ll need her help.”

“But we can do this.”

He smiles at me, handsome and strong. “We can definitely do this.”

18 Months Later

A lot can happen in a year and a half.

A community, a family, can be torn apart.

A leader can be held accountable for the terrible things he’s done.

A new, different kind of family can emerge from the ruin.

And something so precious can be born, a reminder of the true meaning of life.

“Mom,” I say, trying to formulate a response. “This is isn’t necessary.”

“Honey, I don’t need it anymore. I spend all of my time over at Beatrice House and there’s plenty of room for me to stay there.”

I stare at the key she’s holding out. “But it’s your house, and you know I can afford something on my own.”

When the evidence of the Fallen was revealed in court; the imprisonment, sexual abuse and trafficking, the jury delivered a swift and decisive judgment. It only took them two hours to convict Timothy Wray on all charges. The following day the sentencing was issued, and the judge gave him a hundred-and-sixty-seven years in prison along with the ruling that he pay restitution to his victims.Millions.

Anex claimed to be broke, that he’d gambled away his stolen fortune, but the government seized the Serendee property. An arrangement was made for Anex’s victims to have the option of receiving land as part of their restitution, which allowed families to be reunited in a safe space. The community center was transformed into a resource center with social workers and job counselors. They also gave Rex his family home, since the title was in his mother’s name. He, in turn, donated it to Camille to use as a new center for cult survivors and their families.

During this transition, we’d been staying at my mothers’ house and while we figured out what to do next. The idea of moving back to Serendee doesn’t appeal to any of us, but we also don’t know where to go. The world is big and intimidating.

Mom leans against the porch railing, arms crossed over her chest. “Have I told you about buying this house?”

The porch swing creaks when I sit down. “No.”

“When I left Serendee, I had no credit to my name. No bank account or savings. Everything had been tied up in the community.” She runs her hand over the painted wood rail. “I didn’t have any family to come back to. No siblings. My father died when I was in college.”

“What about your mother?”

She laughs. “Things were already tense when I dropped out of grad school and moved to the property. She called it then—outright—she said I was joining a cult and to snap out of it. I told her she was closed minded and didn’t understand how we were going to change the world.” She laughs, but it’s lacking humor, just filled with a tinge of sadness. “It didn’t help that I borrowed money for school and invested it in the vision of Serendee. And later, the fact that I left you behind… well, she never forgave me.” She looks down at her feet, the only sound is the whine of the swing chains. “I came out of Serendee alone, scared, broke, but eventually I got a job, saved every dime I could, and had enough for the down payment on this place.”

In a matter of minutes my mother had filled in the gaps about much of my family history that I never knew about.

“The lack of support is why I started this program in the first place. I wanted to make a place for people to go to that needed help. And for people like my mother who needed support when she lost her child into something like this.” She smiles at me. “I knew I needed to make up for what I helped start—for leaving you.”

“Thank you for telling me all of that, but you don’t need to give me your house, it’s too much.”

“I should have given you everything, Imogene. I should have been there for your first dance, your first date, to help you apply for college, to get you ready for life. I failed at all of that, but this is something I can do for you.” She stands upright. “I can give you a home. One to make your own.”