On the third day, Luna’s drawing was presented as evidence. A bald little girl holding hands with two people. Beneath it, in unsteady letters:
“Now I feel safe.”
The courtroom fell silent.
Because suddenly, it was clear.
This wasn’t about paperwork.
It was about life.
The verdict came faster than expected. Guilty on all charges. No cheers—just relief, like a collective breath released. Morrow was sentenced, and authorities announced reforms to limit experimental treatments, especially on children.
The system was finally forced to look at itself.
Back home, the mansion no longer felt like a sad museum. There was music. Footsteps. Laughter. The sound of pencils on paper.
Luna started school—nervous at first, then proud. She made friends. Raised her hand. Filled notebooks with drawings that told her past and her future. Teachers noticed her talent.
The girl who once barely spoke had found her voice through color.
One day, at a school event, Luna stood on stage holding an envelope. Julia sat in the audience, unaware.
Luna took a breath and read:
“Julia has always been more than someone who took care of me. She is my mother in every way that matters.”
A social worker announced the adoption was official.
Julia bedekte haar mond en huilde zoals ze al maanden niet had gedaan. Toen Luna in haar armen rende, kwam het applaus als een golf. Richard probeerde niet sterk te zijn. Hij liet zijn tranen spreken.
Jaren gingen voorbij.
