Chapter 10 - The Unwritten PageSix months later.
The Long Island estate looked different. The dark, imposing wrought-iron gates had been replaced with open stonework. The staff wing had been fully renovated and renamed The Carter Foundation Wing, dedicated to supporting orphaned children of working families.
I stood on the expansive back terrace, looking out over the Atlantic Ocean. The morning sun was breaking through the clouds, painting the water in brilliant shades of gold and sapphire.
A small pair of arms wrapped around my leg.
I looked down. Rosie looked up at me, wearing a bright yellow dress, holding a new stuffed rabbit—this one grey instead of brown.
"Mr. Damian," she said brightly, holding up a small, smooth seashell she had found on the beach. "For you."
I knelt down, took the seashell, and smiled. "Thank you, captain. That’s the finest treasure I've ever received."
She giggled and ran off toward her grandmother, who was waiting by the garden path.
I stood back up, sliding my hands into my pockets. My fingers brushed against something cool and metallic. I pulled it out for a brief second—just a small platinum band with a crooked little star carved on the inside.
I didn't wear it. I didn't need to.
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Some reminders aren't meant to be worn on your finger; they are meant to be carried in your soul, ensuring you never forget the price of truth, or the three-year-old girl who saved a killer from getting away with murder.
I slipped the ring back into my pocket, turned my face to the morning sun, and walked forward
