Mom, please come get me… my husband’s family hurt me. new

Back in Beaufort, the evening sun cast a golden, amber glow across the marshlands.

Emily’s art gallery opening had arrived. The historic brick building on Bay Street was packed to the brim with local patrons, business owners, and art critics, all murmuring appreciatively as they moved from canvas to canvas.

I stood near the back of the gallery, wearing a simple, elegant dark blazer, keeping a quiet, watchful eye on the room—not out of tactical paranoia, but out of maternal pride.

Emily was standing near her centerpiece painting—a striking, powerful acrylic piece titled The Rising Tide, depicting a shattered wall of gray stone being effortlessly washed away by brilliant, vibrant waves of turquoise and gold.

A local art critic, an older man with silver hair and a tweed jacket, adjusted his glasses as he looked at the canvas.

"There's an extraordinary amount of resilience in these brushstrokes, Ms. Hart," the critic remarked, turning to Emily. "It feels like a story of survival. Like a journey from absolute darkness into absolute light."

Emily smiled, her eyes catching mine across the room for a brief, meaningful second.

"It is," Emily answered softly, her voice steady and clear. "It’s a story about realizing that no matter how heavy the walls around you are, you always have the strength to break through them."

"Well, it's a masterpiece," the critic declared, placing a red Sold dot directly onto the frame's plaque. "I’ll take it for the municipal collection."

A murmur of applause rippled through the gathered crowd. Emily laughed, thanking him gracefully as flashbulbs from local reporters lit up the room.

I stepped outside onto the wooden porch, letting the cool evening breeze brush against my face. The sounds of laughter, clinking glasses, and lively conversation drifted out through the open double doors.

My phone vibrated in my pocket once more. I pulled it out, expecting another administrative update from the military or legal teams. Instead, it was a simple, handwritten photo attachment sent by Marcus from the mountain cabin.

It was a picture of a steaming mug of coffee on the rustic wooden table, with the majestic peaks of the Appalachian mountains rising in the background under a clear blue sky.