fake accounts. How deeply he regretted ever doubting me. How Grace had isolated him until he felt like a prisoner inside his own home.
I clenched my jaw.
I didn’t want to cry in front of her.
But when my father said, “Michael, my son, I love you, and I never should have stopped believing in you,” something inside me broke without asking permission.
The judge overturned my conviction.
My name was cleared.
But a court ruling can’t give back three Christmases. It can’t erase the nights spent in a
