Chapter 10 - The Salt Air Sanctuary
The heavy oak doors of the grand ballroom swung shut behind Mrs. Gable and her departing loyalists, leaving a profound, echoing silence in their wake. Veto didn't release my hand. His fingers remained laced with mine, warm and steady, grounding me against the vast, marble-floored expanse that suddenly felt entirely our own. The remaining staff lingered near the service corridors, whispering among themselves, but Veto's dark gaze swept over them once, effectively silencing any further dissent.
"Pack a small bag, Willow," Veto said softly, turning to me with a look that brooked no argument. "The estate needs time to settle its dust, and you need quiet air that doesn't smell of old grudges and cleaning lye. We're going to the coast."
Two hours later, the city's gray sprawl dissolved into rolling dunes and salt-tinted fog as Veto's town car navigated the winding county roads toward the Ferrante seaside property. Bruno occupied the entire rear seat beside me, his heavy head resting comfortably across my lap, providing a steady, rhythmic warmth that eased the dull ache in my lower back. The cottage, when we finally arrived, was a modest, weathered-shingle structure perched on a jagged cliff overlooking the gray expanse of the Atlantic. There were no grand marble pillars here, no hovering maids, and no ledger books waiting to be audited. Just the relentless, soothing crash of waves against the rocks below and the smell of damp pine and salt spray drifting through the screen door.
Veto set our small bags by the entryway and immediately set about building a fire in the fieldstone hearth, his long black overcoat discarded over a wooden chair. I watched him from the worn floral sofa, feeling a strange, unfamiliar lightness settle into my chest. For the first time since I had stepped foot onto the main estate's wet patio, I didn't feel like a ghost haunting someone else's hallways.
"Are you cold?" Veto asked, glancing over his shoulder as the kindling caught, casting a warm, golden glow across his bearded face and graying temples.
"No," I replied, resting my hands gently over my swollen abdomen as the baby offered a reassuring, familiar kick against my palm. "I'm actually warm. For the first time in months, I'm completely warm."
May you like
Veto crossed the small room, kneeling beside the sofa. He didn't speak right away; instead, he placed a large, warm palm over my hands where they rested on my stomach. Bruno let out a low, contented sigh from the hearthrug, settling deeper into the warmth of the fire.
"Nothing reaches us out here," Veto murmured, his dark eyes searching my face with an intensity that made my breath hitch. "The city can tear itself apart for all I care. This place belongs to us."
