Chapter 6

The girls graduated high school.

Emma was valedictorian. Sophia was class president. They both got into college — full scholarships. Emma to art school. Sophia to study social work. "So I can help kids like me," she said.

I was the proudest father in the world. I cried at their graduation. I cried when they left for college. I cried when they came home for holidays.

They came home often. Every holiday. Every birthday. They brought friends. Boyfriends. Girlfriends. They filled the house with laughter and noise and love.

I met someone. Her name was Diane. She was a social worker. She'd volunteered at the foundation. She was kind. Steady. She loved the girls. They loved her. We took it slow. Very slow. I'd been burned twice. I wasn't going to rush.

But Diane — she was different. She didn't want my money. She didn't want my name. She wanted me. The man behind the billions. The father. The widower. The man who'd made mistakes and was still trying to get it right.

We married. Small wedding. In the backyard. The girls were my maids of honor. Jake — now working in my company, married, with a baby — was my best man. Diane's family was there. My friends. It was perfect.

Diane and I had a daughter. We named her Grace. After Emma's mother. After the grace we'd all found.

Emma and Sophia adored her. They were the best big sisters. They babysat. They taught her to paint. To play soccer. To be kind.

Our house was full. Loud. Happy. Safe.

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The foundation — now the Emma, Sophia & Grace Fund — had helped over ten thousand children. We had offices in twelve cities. We had a staff of fifty. We changed laws. We protected kids. We gave them voices.

I was — happy. Truly. Completely. After everything. After the blindness. The failure. The loss. I'd found my way back. To my daughter. To myself. To love.