Chapter 10 - The Taste of Freedom
One year later.
The coastal town of Newport, Rhode Island, was glowing in the late afternoon sun. The turquoise ocean waves crashed gently against the rocky cliffs below my private seaside estate—a home I had purchased entirely with my own hard-earned money, built with warm timber, open glass walls, and bright, sunlit gardens.
The air smelled of fresh ocean salt, blooming hydrangeas, and roasting summer vegetables.
On the wide wooden deck overlooking the water, a long outdoor dining table was beautifully set with linen napkins, fresh flowers, and crystal glasses.
Sitting around the table were my true family: Marcus Vance and his wife, several close colleagues from Vance Global, and Ethan Cross, who sat right beside me, his arm resting comfortably around my chair.
Laughter filled the air as Marcus told a hilarious story about his early days as a young defense lawyer in Brooklyn.
I sat back in my chair, holding a glass of chilled white wine, watching the sunset cast golden reflections across the water.
My phone buzzed softly on the small side table. I picked it up.
It was an automated legal update from Marcus’s office:
NOTICE: GRANT MERCER’S SECOND APPEAL FOR PAROLE HAS BEEN OFFICIALLY DENIED BY NEW YORK STATE BOARD.
I looked at the notification for two seconds. I didn't feel joy at his suffering, nor did I feel pity. The memory of Grant Mercer, of the hot soup, of the mocking laughter of his family, was now nothing more than a faint, distant scar—a mark of a battle I had fought and decisively won.
I swiped the notification away and set the phone face down on the table.
"Nora?" Ethan asked gently, turning his head toward me, his hand covering mine. "Is everything okay?"
I looked at Ethan—at his warm, kind eyes, at the genuine love and respect that shone in his face—and then at the warm, joyful faces of the people gathered around my table.
"Everything is perfect, Ethan," I said softly, a deep, beautiful smile spreading across my face.
I picked up my glass and raised it toward the table.
"To new beginnings," I said.
Everyone around the table raised their glasses, their voices joining together in a warm, resonant chorus:
May you like
"To new beginnings!"
The glasses clinked softly in the evening breeze. I took a sip of the cool wine, feeling the warm ocean sun against my skin, completely whole, completely victorious, and finally, undeniably free.
