Chapter 9 - THE LIGHT IN THE TOWER
Two years later.
Christmas Eve had arrived in Chicago. A soft, pristine blanket of white snow covered the grounds of the estate, reflecting the warm glowing lights hanging from the stone balconies.
Inside the grand library, a roaring fire crackled in the stone fireplace, filling the room with the scent of pine and cedar.
A massive fifteen-foot Christmas tree stood by the high arched window, decorated with silver stars, golden glass baubles, and handmade paper ornaments.
Five-year-old Lily sat on the plush rug in front of the fireplace, wearing red flannel pajamas, happily opening a large box containing a complete set of art supplies.
Clara sat on the sofa beside Murphy, her head resting comfortably against his chest as his arm wrapped securely around her shoulders. She wore a warm woolen sweater, her face glowing in the firelight.
Murphy looked down at his family, feeling a deep, unshakeable peace settle into his soul—a peace he had never known during his years as a feared crime boss.
Lily picked up a handmade card she had drawn earlier that evening and scrambled onto the sofa, squeezing herself right between Murphy and Clara.
"Look, Daddy!" Lily giggled, holding up the paper.
It was a drawing of a large stone castle under a bright yellow sun, with three figures standing on the lawn holding hands: a tall man wearing a crown, a smiling woman, and a little girl holding a plush rabbit.
At the bottom, written in wobbly child's lettering, were five simple words: OUR HOME IS SAFE NOW.
May you like
Murphy took the card, his dark eyes shining with quiet tears of joy. He pulled Lily close, kissing her forehead, then leaned over to press his lips gently against Clara’s.
"It sure is, sweetheart," Murphy whispered, looking out at the soft falling snow outside the window. "It sure is."
