CHAPTER SIXTY-FOUR
MELINDA
Three Months Later
The foundation office was small but it was mine. Really mine, not something handed to me or expected of me because of who I'd married. Just a storefront in downtown with worn furniture I'd picked out myself, filing cabinets full of cases that mattered, a door with my name on it.
The Melinda Vescari Foundation for Women in Transition.
My actual name, right there in gold letters. No more hiding behind Belinda's identity, no more pretending to be someone else.
Georgia sat across from my desk, flipping through applications. She'd been my first hire, knew the work inside and out from living it herself. Now she helped other women escape the situations we'd both survived.
"This one's urgent," she said, sliding a file toward me. "Twenty two, pa
