EPILOGUE — The First Dance
One year later.
There was another celebration.
Not a wedding.
A father-daughter charity gala raising money for abused children.
Emma wore a pale blue dress.
I wore the same black tuxedo from the wedding that never happened.
When the music began, she reached up with a shy smile.
"Daddy..."
"Will you dance with me?"
I smiled.
"I thought you'd never ask."
We stepped onto the dance floor together.
There were no cameras chasing scandal.
No lies.
No fear hiding behind beautiful smiles.
Only a little girl whose laughter had finally returned.
As we swayed beneath thousands of lights, Emma rested her head against my shoulder.
"You kept your promise."
I kissed the top of her head.
"No, sweetheart."
"I finally started keeping it."
And for the first time since losing her mother...
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Our family no longer felt broken.
It felt whole again.
