She never responded to that letter and I haven’t seen her or the rest of the family in over a year. I spend my Sundays now at a local community garden where I help people grow their own vegetables and flowers.
I met a man named Silas who works as a carpenter and doesn’t care at all about how much money I have in the bank. We sit at a small wooden table in his kitchen and talk for hours about books and the way the light changes in the evening.
He doesn’t kick my chair or expect me to serve him his dinner while he laughs with his friends. He simply pulls out a seat for me and asks me how my day was with a smile that feels like a real home.
I still have the millions of dollars from the sale of my company but I use them now to fund scholarships for students who want to study cybersecurity. I also donate to local shelters and food banks in the Raleigh area where the money can do some actual good.
Sometimes I think about that Sunday dinner and the sound of the chair scraping across the floor. I am grateful for that sound now because it was the noise of a cage door finally swinging open.
I am no longer the servant or the quiet sister or the girl who tries to buy her way into a family that doesn’t want her. I am just Joanna, and for the first time in my life, that is more than enough for me.
THE END.
