Chapter 8 - The Cleansing of the Bellamy Estate
Three months later, the spring sun bathed the rolling hills of the Bellamy estate outside Nashville in brilliant gold.
The grand stone manor, which had stood dark and sterile during my engagement to Claire, was completely transformed.
Every piece of furniture Claire had selected, every painting she had commissioned, and every trace of her presence had been stripped from the house and incinerated on the lower pasture.
The high stone security walls were now draped in blooming climbing roses and fragrant honeysuckle.
In the southern courtyard, where armed bodyguards had once paced with assault rifles, a massive custom wooden playground stood with swings, slides, and a padded turf area.
I had stepped down as head of the regional syndicate, transferring all commercial assets into legitimate maritime shipping, green agriculture, and clean logistics trusts.
The underworld that had defined my youth was excised like a tumor, leaving behind only the clean soil of an honest future.
Megan walked out onto the stone veranda, wearing a soft floral sundress, carrying a pitcher of iced sweet tea.
Her cheeks had regained their healthy, rosy glow, her skin luminous, and her laughter once again echoed through the grand hallways.
"Rowan!" she called out, pointing toward the grass. "Look at Lucas!"
I sprinted across the lawn just in time to see our eleven-month-old son pull himself up onto his wobbly legs using the wooden railing of the sandpit.
Lucas grinned, his two front teeth gleaming, took two wobbly, triumphant steps forward, and collapsed safely into my outstretched arms.
I scooped him up into the air, spinning him around while he squealed with unrestrained, baby laughter.
Noah crawled over from his blanket, tugging at the cuff of my trousers, demanding to be lifted too, while Clara sat on Megan’s lap on the porch, clapping her tiny hands in rhythm.
I walked up the stone steps with both boys in my arms, sinking onto the wide cedar bench beside Megan.
I leaned over and kissed Clara’s soft cheek, then kissed Megan’s lips with a slow, tender reverence that tasted of summer peaches and redemption.
"Lucas took his first steps," I smiled, my heart bursting with pride.
May you like
"He's going to be just as stubborn as his father," Megan laughed, resting her head against my shoulder.
"Let's hope he has his mother's heart instead," I whispered, wrapping my arm around her waist.
