Chapter 7 - Return to the LightBy 11:30 p.m., the storm had finally begun to clear, leaving a clean, crisp autumn air drifting across Long Island as my car pulled back up the grand driveway of the mansion.
The estate was dark, save for the faint amber glow of the porch lamps reflecting off the wet gravel.
I parked, stepped out, and walked up the stone steps to the front entrance. I didn't use my key. Instead, I knocked twice, paused for three seconds, and knocked once more.
The heavy oak door swung open a few inches. Grace’s eyes appeared in the gap, checking the hallway before she fully recognized me.
“The garden gate is rusted,” she whispered.
“And the roses are blooming,” I replied quietly.
Grace unlocked the deadbolt and pulled the door open wide. She looked exhausted, her hair slightly disheveled, but there was an immense wave of relief washing over her face.
“Is it over?” she asked softly.
“It’s over,” I said, stepping into the foyer and handing her my wet coat and holster. “Marcus is secured, and the man who pulled the trigger will never breathe free air again.”
From the top of the grand staircase, three small figures in matching pastel pajamas stood watching us.
Olivia, Sophie, and Nora.
They weren't hiding behind doors anymore. They weren't cowering in silence.
I looked up at them, feeling a lump rise in my throat that no amount of mafia power or intimidation could ever suppress. I walked slowly to the foot of the stairs, looking up at my daughters.
“Daddy?” Nora’s small, hesitant voice broke the silence of the foyer like a ray of morning sunlight.
I dropped to one knee at the bottom of the steps, holding my arms wide open.
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“I’m here, sweetheart,” I choked out, tears finally breaking free and running down my cheeks. “Daddy’s home.”
All three girls ran down the stairs together, their bare feet pattering against the hardwood like falling rain, throwing themselves directly into my arms.
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