Chapter 10 - The Unwritten PageSpring arrived in Chicago two months later with a sudden, violent explosion of green
along the lakefront. The ice across Lake Michigan broke apart into massive, drifting floes that slowly melted beneath a warm, forgiving sun.
At the newly redesigned Riverline site—now officially cleared of all fraudulent encumbrances and backed entirely by clean, transparent capital—construction cranes hummed rhythmically against the blue sky.
On a wooden observation deck overlooking the harbor, Sloan stood with her younger brother Toby, who was holding an ice cream cone in one hand and pointing excitedly at a passing tugboat with the other. Toby’s cheeks were healthy and full, the gray exhaustion of hospital wards completely gone from his face.
Behind them, footsteps crunched softly on the freshly laid gravel.
Cormack Vale walked out onto the deck, wearing a simple dark jacket, carrying a small leather notebook under his arm. He stopped a few feet away, letting the two of them enjoy the view for a moment before speaking.
"How’s the new apartment near the hospital?" Cormack asked quietly.
Sloan turned around, shielding her eyes from the sun with one hand. A genuine, relaxed smile—the kind she hadn't had to practice in front of a mirror—lit up her face. "It’s wonderful, Mr. Vale. Toby has his own room, and the school is only two blocks away."
"Call me Cormack," he corrected gently.
She nodded, the smile lingering in her eyes. She looked down at the leather-bound notebook he was carrying. "Is that another corporate brief?"
Cormack looked down at the blank pages inside the cover. "No," he said, holding it out toward her. "It’s an empty ledger. I thought perhaps someone who spent six years writing other people’s stories might want a book where she gets to write her own."
May you like
Sloan reached out and took the notebook from his hand. The leather was soft, new, and completely unblemished by margins, line numbers, or stamps.
She opened to the very first page, ran her fingers across the blank white paper, and for the first time in her life, she picked up a pen without feeling the need to look over her shoulder.
