She was in every step.
In every family the foundation helped.
In every frightened mother who received a hotel room near a hospital instead of sleeping in a chair.
In every pediatric clinic trained to recognize the symptoms that had taken my daughter.
In every employee at Sterling who could now report wrongdoing without fearing the person whose name appeared on the building.
And in me.
Arthur once called me the quiet wife.
For years, he mistook silence for ignorance.
Patience for dependence.
Love for weakness.
He thought I did not understand money.
He thought I did not understand power.
He thought that after Chloe died, grief would make me easy to control.
Instead, grief burned away every illusion I still had about him.
I did not take everything from Arthur.
He gave it away himself.
One lie at a time.
One stolen dollar at a time.
One betrayal at a time.
