“Every single one.”
Emma pulled back to look at him, her dark eyes serious.
“Aunt Sylvia too?”
Brendan had been dreading this conversation. Emma was smart enough to have figured out some of what happened. She deserved honesty. But how did you tell an eight-year-old that her aunt had tried to sell her?
“Aunt Sylvia made some very bad choices. She’s going to have to face consequences for those choices.”
“She was going to give me to bad people, wasn’t she?”
Emma’s voice was small.
“I heard you and Uncle Adrien arguing. About custody. About me being worth money.”
Brendan’s heart broke.
“You’re not a commodity, Em. You’re my daughter. You’re priceless. Nothing in this world matters more to me than keeping you safe.”
“I know.”
Emma hugged him again.
“That’s why I wasn’t scared. Because I knew you’d find me. You always find me.”
They stayed in the shelter for three more days while the FBI finished processing evidence and conducting interviews. Brendan spent the time with Emma, answering her questions as honestly as he could, reassuring her that she was safe, that the people who had tried to hurt her were gone.
Adrien visited once.
He looked like he had aged ten years in the past week, his eyes red-rimmed and haunted.
“I’m sorry,” he said, standing awkwardly in the doorway while Emma colored at a nearby table. “I should have seen what Sylvia was doing. Should have protected Emma instead of defending her.”
“Yeah,” Brendan said. “You should have.”
Adrien flinched, but nodded.
“I know I can’t make this right, but I want you to know I’m testifying against her. Everything I know. Everything I saw. She’s going to pay for this.”
“She already is.”
Brendan glanced at Emma.
“And you and I, we’re done. You’re Emma’s uncle in DNA only. Don’t call. Don’t visit. Don’t try to be part of her life. You made your choice when you took Sylvia’s side over mine.”
“Brendan—”
“She could have been killed, trafficked, abused. All because your wife was a monster and you were too blind to see it.”
Brendan’s voice was quiet but hard as steel.
“I don’t forgive that. I won’t forgive that. Stay away from my daughter.”
Adrien left without another word.
Three weeks later, Brendan and Emma stood in a courtroom watching as Sylvia Castro was formally charged with conspiracy to commit human trafficking, attempted kidnapping, money laundering, and conspiracy to commit murder—the latter stemming from her connection to buyers, some of whom had killed previous victims.
The evidence was overwhelming. The laptop. The recordings. Her own confession.
Her lawyer tried to argue duress, claiming Stanton had threatened her. The judge wasn’t buying it.
“Mrs. Castro,” Judge Allison Casey said, her voice cold, “you had multiple opportunities to seek help from law enforcement. Instead, you chose to profit from the exploitation of innocent children. This court finds you guilty on all counts. You are hereby sentenced to forty-five years in federal prison without possibility of parole.”
Sylvia’s legs gave out. Guards had to carry her from the courtroom.
Outside, reporters swarmed, but Brendan kept Emma’s face hidden. They didn’t need to see her. Didn’t need to know her name. She had been through enough without becoming a public spectacle.
“Is it really over?” Emma asked as they drove home.
“Yeah, sweetheart. It’s really over.”
“Good.”
She was quiet for a moment.
“Dad, can we get pizza tonight?”
“The kind with extra cheese?”
