Chapter 7 - Rebuilding from the Ashes
Two weeks later, the crisp autumn breeze swept through Manhattan, bringing clear blue skies and bright sunshine, washing away the memory of the freezing rain.
My hair had started growing back into a soft, stylish pixie cut that framed my face perfectly. The stress of the legal battles had settled, and Eleanor Kane was currently held without bail in a federal detention facility, awaiting her trial on multiple felony charges.
We flew to Geneva on Roman’s private jet. The reunion between Roman and his father, Harrison, was a quiet, emotional masterpiece. Harrison was frail, his silver hair thin, but his mind was sharp and his eyes bore the same intense intelligence as Roman’s.
When Harrison met me, he reached out his thin, fragile hand and squeezed mine tightly.
"Roman told me what you did, my dear," Harrison said in a faint, raspy voice. "You have the heart of a lion. My son is the luckiest man alive."
"We take care of our own, Mr. Kane," I replied with a warm smile.
"Call me Harrison," he insisted gently, looking at my large bump. "And please, bring my granddaughter to see me as soon as she is born."
Upon our return to New York, Roman took me on a drive away from Wall Street, heading toward the quiet, scenic coastal town of Montauk at the very tip of Long Island.
The car pulled up to a breathtaking cliffside property overlooking the vast, blue Atlantic Ocean. It wasn't a cold, arrogant mansion like the Kane estate where I had been tormented. It was a beautiful, modern home made of warm cedar wood, floor-to-ceiling glass, and sprawling gardens filled with autumn flowers.
"What is this place?" I asked, stepping out of the car into the fresh ocean breeze.
Roman walked up behind me, wrapping his warm arms around my waist and gently resting his hands on my belly.
"This is our new home," Roman whispered into my ear. "I sold the old Kane estate. Every single brick of it is being demolished next week. We are building our own legacy, Bianca. Away from the toxicity, away from the dark past."
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I turned around in his arms, looking up into the eyes of the man who had fought through hell to protect me.
"It’s perfect," I choked out, a happy tear escaping down my cheek. "It feels like home."
