CHAPTER 56

After we left their cabin, we drove in silence to the private airport. Not a word passed between Heinrich and me. The weight of everything I had just confronted—the anger, the betrayal, the gut-wrenching truths—had completely drained me. I sat quietly in the passenger seat, staring blankly out the window as the trees blurred by. My heart was heavy, my limbs sluggish. It felt like I was moving through molasses.

Heinrich didn't speak, and I was grateful for it. I needed the silence. I needed it more than I had ever needed anything. Because right now, words felt like they would only make it worse. There was no explanation, no comfort that could undo what I had just experienced. I didn’t feel strong, I didn’t feel brave. I felt confused, hurt, bitter, and overwhelmingly angry. Not just at them—my so-called parents—but at the world, at the circumstances that stole my childhood, at the people who played with my fate like it was some sort of business contract.