Chapter 10 - The Right Story
That evening, at eight o'clock, the penthouse on 5th Avenue was bathed in a soft, warm glow.
The rain had entirely cleared, leaving a crystal-clear winter sky filled with bright, diamond stars reflecting off the high glass windows overlooking Central Park.
In the master bedroom, the heavy blackout curtains had been pulled wide open for the first time in three years, allowing the gentle, silvery moonlight to fill the room.
Victor Moretti sat in his large, comfortable leather armchair beside the window. He wore a simple black sweater and cotton trousers. The laptop on his desk was closed. The security feeds were muted. The phones were silent.
Standing beside his chair was Lily, wearing a clean pair of pajamas—this time covered in little blue bears—holding her earless gray rabbit under one arm and a fresh hardback book in her hand.
Sophia stood near the open bedroom door, holding a warm cup of chamomiles tea, a quiet, peaceful smile on her face as she watched them.
"Are you going to sit back?" Lily asked, tapping her small hand against Victor’s knee.
Victor looked down at her. He smiled—a soft, true smile that reached all the way to his gray eyes.
"Yes, Lily," Victor said softly. "I'm sitting back."
He leaned his broad shoulders against the leather armchair, closed his eyes, and let out a long, quiet breath that reached the very bottom of his lungs.
Lily climbed up onto the footstool beside his chair, opened her storybook across her small lap, and began to read in her low, rhythmic, three-year-old voice, confidently making up the words as she went along.
"Once upon a time," Lily recited softly, "there was a big bear who lived in a very quiet house. He was very tired, but he didn't know how to go to sleep. So his friend brought him a yellow lion and a grey rabbit..."
Victor listened to her voice.
He didn't think about the docks, the Commission, the Swiss bank accounts, or the men who had sought to destroy him.
He felt the cool, crisp evening air drifting through the cracked window. He smelled the faint scent of clean linen and lavender tea. He felt the heavy, golden warmth of absolute safety settling over his mind, lifting the three-year shadow off his soul forever.
Slowly, gently, Victor Moretti’s breathing deepened.
May you like
His hands relaxed in his lap.
And as the little girl in the blue bear pajamas read the final page of her story, the man half of Manhattan feared finally closed his eyes, drifted off, and fell into a deep, uninterrupted sleep.
