35
TESSA
Jaime stood at the door of the backyard bungalow with her hand on her growing baby bump. “Sick.” She said, taking in the gleaming hardwood floors and bay windows that overlooked the big backyard filled with roses, blossoming cherry trees and even a large play structure with swings and a slide.
“This is your home now.” I told her. “For as long as you want it to be.”
Enzo and I purchased the huge Craftsman home and had separate bungalows built on the rest of the property. There were plenty of bedrooms for the younger girls that were abducted, hired, or coerced into working for Lyle, who was now behind bars. We’d hired a resident assistant whose job it was to monitor the safety and well-being of the residents. Half of the young women were on a regime of treatment and Suboxone, to
