I let my ex-husband’s wealthy family treat me like a poor pregnant burden, because none of them knew I owned the company paying their salaries.

Two months later, almost to the day, I stood in the middle of the old steel mill site. The rusted girders were gone. The weeds had been cleared. The ground had been tested and cleaned — we’d spent fifty million dollars making sure every last trace of the toxic waste was gone, that the land was safer than it had ever been.

I was nine months pregnant now. Huge. Uncomfortable. My ankles were so swollen I could barely get my shoes on. But I wasn’t missing this.

Today was the groundbreaking.

Thousands of people were there. The governor. The mayor. The whole town. The employees of Hale Global. The families who’d lost their kids. They were all smiling. All cheering. All ready for the future.

Arthur handed me the shiny silver shovel. Eleanor stood on my left. Maria stood on my right. Mrs. Carter and Tom were in the front row, holding the first shovels too.

I looked out over the crowd. Found the spot where they’d set up the special chairs.

Front row. Exactly as I’d promised.

Diane was there. In handcuffs. Wearing an orange prison jumpsuit. Flanked by two armed guards. She’d been allowed to attend — at my request — as part of her plea deal. She had to watch. She had to sit there in her orange jumpsuit and watch me put my name on top of her family’s legacy.

She was staring at me. Her face was twisted with hate. But there was something else there too. Defeat. The final, total defeat of a woman who’d spent her whole life winning, only to lose everything in the end.

Brendan was there too. Also in handcuffs. Also in orange. He wouldn’t look at me. He just stared at the ground.

Jessica was there too. She’d testified against both of them in exchange for probation. She was working at a coffee shop in town now. Living in a small apartment. Trying to rebuild her life. She waved at me when she saw me look over. I waved back. People deserved second chances. Even her.

I turned back to the crowd. Lifted the shovel.

“Today,” I said, my voice loud and clear, “we don’t just break ground on a new building. We break ground on a new future. For this company. For this town. For every single person who ever felt like they weren’t good enough. Who ever felt like the world was stacked against them. Who ever got knocked down and wondered if they’d ever get back up.”

I looked directly at Diane.

“I was that girl,” I said. “I grew up with nothing. No parents. No home. No one to tell me I could be anything. And for a long time, I believed the people who told me I was nothing. I let them make me small. I let them make me quiet. But today? I’m not small anymore. I’m not quiet anymore. And neither is this town.”

I drove the shovel into the dirt.

It was hard. Rocky. I had to put my whole weight into it. But it went in. I lifted a shovelful of dirt and turned it over.

The crowd cheered so loud the birds flew off the nearby trees.

One by one, the others joined me. Arthur. Eleanor. Maria. Mrs. Carter. Tom. Even the governor. We all turned over dirt. Together.

When it was done, I walked over to where Diane was sitting. The guards tensed. But I just stopped in front of her and looked down.

She glared up at me.

“You think you won,” she hissed. “You think this makes you better than me? You’re just like me, Cassidy. You want power. You want control. You want to be the one on top. The only difference is you got lucky.”

I knelt down — as much as I could with the baby — so I was eye level with her.

“No, Diane,” I said softly. “I’m nothing like you. You spent your whole life taking. Taking money. Taking lives. Taking everything you could get your hands on because you were so scared of being small. I spent my whole life building. Building a company. Building jobs. Building a future for people who need it. You destroyed families. I’m going to help them heal. That’s the difference between us. You wanted to be feared. I want to be remembered.”

I stood up.

“Enjoy the view, Diane,” I said. “Because this is the closest you’ll ever get to anything good ever again.”

I walked away.

And as I did, I felt it.

A sharp, stabbing pain in my lower back.

Then another.

And then — my water broke.

All over the brand-new construction boots I’d bought just for the day.

I froze.

Arthur saw my face.

“Cassidy?” he said, alarmed. “What’s wrong?”