Chapter 7 - Dawn Over the Estate
The sun rose slowly over the eastern seaboard, burning away the remnants of the November storm and casting a pale, golden light across the manicured lawns of the Moretti estate.
Inside the nursery on the second floor, the room was warm and quiet, filled with the soft hum of a humidifier and the gentle scent of lavender.
I stood by the white crib, looking down at the small bundle sleeping peacefully beneath a pink cotton blanket. Her tiny chest rose and fell in a steady, effortless rhythm. Around her neck, resting against the soft fabric of her onesie, was the silver necklace with the intertwined initials I and A.
My daughter.
The door creaked open softly.
Emma walked in, wearing a dry, oversized sweater Mrs. Gable had found for her, her bare feet replaced by a pair of soft wool slippers. She tiptoed over to the crib and rested her chin on the wooden rail, looking down at her baby sister with a quiet, protective tenderness that belonged to someone twice her age.
“Is she okay?” Emma whispered, looking up at me.
“She’s sleeping,” I answered, pulling up a chair and sitting down beside the crib. I reached out, gently running the back of my finger along Emma’s cheek. “And she is safe. Both of you are safe. No one will ever hurt you again.”
Emma leaned into my touch, her dark eyes reflecting the morning light. “Are we going to stay here forever?”
“As long as you want,” I said, my voice steady and certain. “This is your home now, Emma. And Lily’s. And mine.”
May you like
A faint, hesitant smile touched the corners of her mouth—the first real smile I had seen on her face since she stumbled through my study doors out of the dark and the rain.
For the first time in seven years, the heavy knot of grief and anger in my chest loosened. The past could not be rewritten, and the ghosts of Isabella and Clara would always walk these halls, but the future was right here, breathing softly in a white crib, waiting to be protected.
