Chapter 8 - The Promise Kept
The morning sun rose over the Morti estate, casting a warm, golden light across the restored security gates and the newly planted rosebushes in the garden.
Inside the east wing, the atmosphere was lighter than it had been in five years.
Alina stood by the window—not in her wheelchair, but firmly on her own two feet, wearing a pair of brand-new purple sneakers that had arrived in a mysterious package the day before.
The door pushed open, and little Sophia skipped in, holding a fresh crayon drawing.
"See?" Sophia announced proudly, holding up the paper. "I told you you'd have purple shoes. You owe me a cookie."
Alina laughed, kneeling down effortlessly to eye-level with the five-year-old. "You're right, Sophia. I do owe you a cookie. In fact, you can have as many as you want."
Downstairs in the kitchen, Carmen was pouring coffee when Marco walked in. He had changed out of his tactical gear into a clean dark suit, looking tired, but the dark, heavy cloud that had suffocated him since the night of the accident was finally gone.
"Mr. Morti," Carmen greeted respectfully. "You're up early."
"The air is cleaner today, Carmen," Marco said softly, taking a cup of coffee from her hands. He looked toward the hallway leading to the east wing, listening to the sound of Alina’s footsteps walking back and forth across the floorboards—real, steady footsteps.
"Your daughter is a miracle, sir," Carmen said quietly.
May you like
Marco took a sip of his coffee, a faint, genuine smile touching his lips.
"No, Carmen," Marco corrected, looking out the kitchen window toward the sunlit gardens where the future of his family was finally safe. "She's just stubborn. Just like the little girl who taught her how to stand."
