And Charlotte said no.
For a woman born into a system where refusal had rarely been recognized, that single word carried the weight of an entire lifetime.
No.
The doctor could not have it.
The plantation could not have it.
Silas Harper could not reach beyond the grave and claim one final piece of her.
Charlotte Green had spent nearly twenty years carrying evidence of something done to her when she had no power to refuse.
When it finally left her body, she made one decision entirely for herself.
She buried it.
And then she walked home lighter than she had been since she was sixteen years old.
Not because the past had disappeared.
It never would.
But because, at last, the past belonged to her—and she alone decided where it would be laid to rest.
