Chapter 8 - The Cape May Horizon
Six months later, the world had changed its shape entirely.
The legal battle had been fierce, but it had lacked the stamina Ryan’s lawyers had promised. Once Daniel’s team released the logs from the Cape May boathouse—which Marcus and Silas had recovered forty-eight hours after the court hearing—the federal prosecutors had stepped in. The Vance corporate empire had collapsed like a house of cards built on wet sand. Ryan was currently serving an eight-year sentence at a federal facility in Lewisburg, his appeals denied, his assets frozen and systematically liquidated to pay restitution to the families of the Cerberus crew.
I was sitting on the wide, covered porch of a small white cottage overlooking the Atlantic Ocean in Cape May, New Jersey. The afternoon sun was warm, smelling of salt water and beach plum bushes.
Leo was six months old now, a fat, laughing baby with bright blue eyes who spent his days trying to eat his own toes and chasing the sea gulls with his gaze. He was sitting on a quilt on the porch floor, surrounded by wooden blocks and a plush whale Daniel had bought him.
A pair of footsteps sounded on the gravel path.
Daniel walked up the steps, carrying a box of fresh pastries from the bakery in town. He looked younger now; the permanent line of worry between his eyebrows had faded, replaced by a light tan from the afternoons he spent helping me repair the old garden wall behind the cottage.
"How’s the boy?" he asked, kneeling down to let Leo grab his index finger with a tight, chubby fist.
"He’s trying to learn how to roll over," I said, leaning back in my wicker chair. "The doctor says he’s in the ninety-fifth percentile for height. He’s going to be tall."
"Like his grandfather," Daniel said softly, looking out at the water.
We had discovered through the probate records that Daniel had been right all along—Arthur Vance had falsified my birth certificate, but a DNA test conducted during the asset distribution had confirmed something else. Something Daniel had suspected but never dared to say aloud until the papers proved it.
My mother hadn't just been running to Daniel for help twenty-one years ago. She had been running back to the father of her child.
"The trust fund distribution came through this morning," I said, looking at the silver pendant that now hung openly against my white sundress. "The lawyers said the restitution fund is fully set up. The survivors' families received their checks today."
"And you?" Daniel asked, turning his head to look at me. "What’s left for Emily?"
"Enough," I said, smiling as Leo finally managed to flip himself onto his stomach with a triumphant grunt. "Enough to buy this house. Enough to ensure Leo never has to worry about where his next bed is going to be. And enough to pay a certain retired investor to stay here and teach him how to sail."
May you like
Daniel laughed—a sound I hadn't heard from him during that long, dark week in November, but one that had become common now. "I’m expensive, Emily. I require a lot of coffee and very specific garlic preparation."
"I think we can afford it," I said.
