Now I stood beneath my daughter’s name with the city watching.
“My name is Alexis Carter,” I began. “Sixteen years ago, my daughter, Emilia Grace Carter, was born with a severe congenital heart defect. She lived for thirty-seven days. Those days changed my life, my grandfather’s life, and ultimately the lives of thousands of families who came through these doors.”
The courtyard quieted.
“Yesterday, someone attempted to use Emilia’s private medical history as leverage against me.”
A ripple moved through the reporters.
I did not name Ronald.
I did not need to.
“That attempt failed. But it reminded me that grief kept hidden can be mistaken by cruel people for shame.”
My throat tightened.
I breathed through it.
“I am not ashamed of my daughter.”
A camera clicked.
Another.
“She was loved. She mattered. And beginning today, her name will do even more.”
Mara advanced the screen behind me.
