Chapter 8 - The Return of the King
The first rays of dawn were painting the Manhattan skyline in brilliant shades of gold and pink when the black sedan pulled back into the estate's driveway.
Grace, who had spent the entire night pacing the drawing-room floor, rushed to the grand front doors as they unlocked. The heavy oak swung open, and Marcus stepped inside. He looked tired, his coat slightly dusty, but his eyes were clear, bright, and completely triumphant.
"Marcus!" Grace cried out, throwing caution to the wind as she ran across the marble floor and threw her arms around his neck.
Marcus caught her effortlessly, burying his face in her hair as he lifted her slightly off the ground, holding her as if she were the only real thing in a crumbling world.
"It's over, Grace," he murmured against her ear, his voice thick with emotion. "It's all over. We're safe. Truly safe."
Just then, the sound of tiny footsteps echoed from the top of the grand staircase. They both turned to see Ivy standing there, rubbing her eyes in her pink pajamas, clutching her stuffed rabbit.
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"Daddy?" Ivy called out sleepily, descending the stairs step by step.
Marcus gently set Grace down and walked over to the foot of the staircase, kneeling down with open arms just as he had days before.
