Chapter 8 - The Return to the Estate
The sun was just beginning to crest over the jagged peaks of the Hudson Valley, washing the stone facade of the Moretti estate in a warm, golden morning light.
Inside the mansion, however, the atmosphere remained grim and clinical.
Charles Bellamy and Isabella Romano sat tied to heavy wooden chairs in the center of the grand ballroom, surrounded by four of Dominic’s armed enforcers. Isabella’s designer ivory dress was ruined, stained with dirt and sweat, her hair disheveled as she stared blankly at the floor in mute terror. Charles looked like a man who had already aged ten years overnight, muttering silent prayers under his breath.
The heavy double doors swung open.
Silence fell instantly across the room.
Vincent Moretti walked through the entrance. He wasn't wearing his suit jacket anymore; his sleeves were rolled up, exposing his forearms. But it wasn't Vincent that made everyone hold their breath.
Walking right beside him, leaning slightly on his arm for support, was Sofia.
She was wrapped in a heavy cashmere coat Vincent had placed over her shoulders. Her face was still pale, but her head was held high, her dark eyes sharp and clear as they surveyed the opulent room she had been ripped away from three years ago.
Grace Carter, who had stayed awake all night keeping little Emily asleep in the staff quarters, stepped out from the service corridor just as the group entered.
When Sofia saw her, she paused. A warm, genuine smile broke across her tired face.
“Grace,” Sofia whispered, stepping away from Vincent for a second to pull the stunned housekeeper into a tight, emotional hug. “Thank you. I knew... I knew someone in this house would remember.”
Grace blinked back tears, shaking her head. “Oh, Mrs. Moretti... thank God. Thank God you're back where you belong.”
Sofia turned her gaze from Grace to little Emily, who was peeking shyly from behind her mother’s skirt, still clutching her school backpack. Sofia knelt down slowly, wincing slightly from her physical weakness, until she was eye-level with the little girl.
“You kept my phone safe, didn't you, Emily?” Sofia asked softly, reaching out to gently brush a lock of hair behind the child’s ear.
Emily nodded shyly, clutching the cracked blue phone in her pocket. “I knew you weren't gone, Ms. Sofia. I remembered what you said about white roses.”
Sofia let out a soft, melodic laugh that sounded like music in the grand, echoing hall. “And what did I say about them?”
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“You said they were just pretending they aren’t cold,” Emily recited clearly.
Sofia smiled, a fierce, bright expression that chased away the last lingering shadows of the Greenport vault. “That's right. And winter is finally over.”
