Chapter 8 - THE FLIGHT TO LUGANO
At 4:00 AM, a private Gulfstream G650 jet sliced through the dark, rain-swept skies above the Atlantic Ocean, heading east toward Zurich.
Inside the luxurious leather-trimmed cabin, the atmosphere was quiet and heavy with lingering tension.
Clara lay asleep on one of the plush velvet sofas in the rear of the cabin, wrapped in a soft cashmere blanket, her worn brown teddy bear tucked securely under her arm. Mrs. Gable sat in a nearby armchair, sipping warm tea, her eyes watching over the child with protective devotion.
In the forward cabin, Ethan sat by the window, staring out into the endless black expanse outside.
Vivian walked over, carrying two glasses of scotch, and set one down on the small mahogany table beside him. She sat down in the opposite leather seat, looking at him quietly.
“You haven't slept in three days, Ethan,” Vivian said softly.
Ethan picked up the glass, swirling the amber liquid around the ice cubes, but did not drink. “I’ve spent nineteen years sleeping, Vivian. I’m just starting to wake up.”
Vivian looked down at her lap, her fingers tracing the edge of her glass. “Are you going to send me away once we reach Switzerland?”
Ethan turned his gaze from the window to her face.
“Why would I send you away?” Ethan asked calmly.
“I lied to you for eighteen months,” Vivian whispered, remorse darkening her eyes. “I walked into your life under a false identity. I let you fall in love with a ghost.”
Ethan leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, bringing his face closer to hers.
“The woman who hid behind a false identity was trying to save a child,” Ethan said softly. “The woman who stood beside me in St. Jude Cathedral with a loaded gun faced down ten tactical guards without flinching. That wasn't a ghost, Vivian. That was real.”
Vivian looked up, her dark eyes glittering with unshed tears. “You don't hate me?”
“I hate lies,” Ethan corrected gently, reaching out to cover her hand with his own. “But I know the difference between a trap and a sacrifice. You put your life on the line to bring the truth to light. I don't forget that kind of loyalty.”
Vivian let out a soft, shuddering breath, her fingers winding tightly around his, leaning her head forward until her forehead rested against his shoulder.
For the first time in eighteen months, the foundation between them wasn't built on tactical maneuvers, secret assignments, or family secrets. It was built on the raw, unvarnished truth.
“What happens when we reach Lugano?” Vivian asked softly.
May you like
Ethan looked back toward the rear of the cabin, where his little sister slept peacefully under Mrs. Gable’s watchful eye.
“First, I reunite my family,” Ethan said, his voice firm and unwavering. “And then, we rebuild the syndicate so that no child ever has to hide behind a painting in my house again.”
