Chapter 162 - The Rebuilding of the Hearth
Three weeks after the trial at The Hague, the warm spring sunshine melted the last winter snows from the high meadows surrounding our estate in Annecy.
The blackened, shattered front gates had been completely cleared away. In their place stood two towering stone pillars constructed of native alpine limestone, entwined with climbing white climbing roses and fragrant purple wisteria.
The lawns had been restored to an emerald carpet of wild clover, and the lake was once again a shimmering sheet of fallen sapphires under a cloudless blue sky.
Inside the villa, the living room had been completely renovated.
The broken French doors had been replaced with double-glazed acoustic glass that framed the majestic peaks of the Alps. The stone fireplace crackled with sweet birchwood, and the long cedar dining table was laden with fresh morning pastries, warm sourdough bread, and bowls of ripe wild strawberries picked from our orchard.
I stood on the wide stone terrace overlooking the water, wearing an oversized cream knit sweater and jeans, holding a warm porcelain mug of coffee.
Footsteps echoed softly against the flagstones behind me.
Ethan walked out onto the terrace, wearing a faded gray cotton henley with the sleeves rolled up, work jeans dusted with sawdust, and clean leather boots.
His face was tanned, the hard, exhausted lines around his eyes completely erased by three weeks of uninterrupted peace. The dragon tattoo on his neck was quiet, resting beneath his collar like an ancient, sleeping guardian that was no longer needed for war.
He slid his arms around my waist from behind, pulling me against his broad, solid chest, resting his chin on my shoulder, inhaling the scent of my hair.
"Penny for your thoughts, Chairwoman," Ethan murmured, his deep voice vibrating against my back.
I smiled, leaning my head against his neck. "I was just thinking about the night you stood on that stage in Geneva, Ethan. When you told the whole world you had a billion-dollar bounty on your head."
Ethan let out a soft, low chuckle that rumbled through his chest. "I had to give them a target they couldn't resist, Victoria. If they were looking at me... they weren't looking at our children."
"You terrified me, you know," I whispered, turning in his embrace, resting my hands on his broad shoulders, looking up into his stormy gray eyes. "I thought I was watching you say goodbye."
Ethan’s expression softened into an ocean of pure, reverent, boundless devotion. He reached up, his warm, calloused fingers gently cupping my cheeks, his thumbs brushing across my cheekbones with an infinite tenderness.
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"I will never say goodbye to you, Victoria," Ethan whispered, his voice trembling with an emotion so deep it shook his entire frame. "I survived twelve years of blood and shadows just to find my way to your porch. You are my home. You are my life. And as long as I have breath in my body, I will stand between you and the storm."
I closed my eyes, leaning into his touch, feeling the steady, powerful rhythm of his heartbeat beneath my palm—the heartbeat that had saved our world.
