Chapter 8 - The Sunrise Over the Estate
The morning sun broke over the iron gates of the Moretti estate, bathing the manicured lawns and stone pathways in a brilliant, golden autumn light.
I walked down the grand marble steps of the mansion, breathing in the crisp Connecticut air, free of chemicals, free of poison, free of secrets.
From the second-floor nursery window, two little boys in blue pajamas pressed their hands against the glass, waving wildly down at me.
“Bye, Miss Claire! Don't forget to come back for pancakes!” Lucas shouted, his voice ringing clear and strong across the courtyard.
“We’ll beat you at Mario Kart next time!” Leo yelled after him.
I raised my hand and waved back, a genuine laugh escaping my lips.
Behind me, the heavy oak front door opened. Vincent stepped out onto the porch, standing beside me as we watched the twins disappear back inside to finish their breakfast.
“They’re loud,” Vincent observed, a faint, contented smile on his face.
“That’s what healthy seven-year-old boys sound like, Mr. Moretti,” I said, turning to walk toward my car parked near the fountain.
“Vincent,” he corrected softly.
I paused, looking back over my shoulder at the most feared man in the city.
May you like
“Vincent,” I agreed.
I got into my car, started the engine, and drove out through the iron gates—knowing full well that my bags might be packed, but my story in this house was only just beginning.
