Sophie and I met Elaine Morris at a quiet coffee shop, far from the noisy downtown area. She was a frail woman, about my age, with tired but kind eyes. Accompanying her was her eldest son, David. "Ryan. Sophie," Elaine nodded slightly as we sat down. "I read about your case in the papers thirty years ago. We were shocked." "We don't blame your family," I opened immediately to dispel the tension. "The fault lies with Harbor Ridge’s system and Denise Hall’s cover-up." "I know," Elaine said, her hands tightly clasping her hot tea. "But do you know what happened to our embryos? Because our donation form was misattached to your file, our actual embryos were marked as 'unresolved.' They were stuck in the cryo system for eight years. By the time we found out, they were no longer viable." Sophie took a deep breath. It turned out that in exchange for her life, another chance at life had been extinguished in those dark liquid nitrogen tanks. David spoke up: "When my mother heard about the registry, she wanted to meet you to apologize. Even though we did nothing wrong, our records became the tool the clinic used to cause pain for both families." Sophie reached across the table, placing her hand over Elaine’s wrinkled one. "You owe us no apology, Elaine. None of us had a choice in how that system operated. The only apology that mattered was locked away with a three-year prison sentence a long time ago." That was when I realized Sophie had truly grown up. She was no longer the child who needed me to protect her from the world. She had become the one bringing healing to others.