Chapter 7 - Whispers in the Wind
Three months later.
The autumn leaves in Greenwich had turned brilliant shades of gold and crimson, carpeting the manicured lawns of the estate. Inside the warm, sunlit kitchen, the smell of freshly baked cinnamon rolls filled the air.
Emily stood by the kitchen island, laughing as Lily tried to frost a cupcake with way too much blue sprinkles, while Paul and Johnny debated loudly over a Lego castle on the hardwood floor.
I walked in behind her, wrapping my arms around her waist from behind and resting my chin on her shoulder.
"Smells incredible in here, Mrs. Brooks," I murmured, kissing her cheek.
Emily smiled, leaning back into my embrace. "Careful, Mr. CEO. If you keep distracting the head baker, the cupcakes will be a disaster."
"I think I can handle a baking disaster," I whispered, turning her around in my arms so I could look down into her bright, happy eyes. The quiet sadness that had haunted her from the day we met was completely gone, replaced by a radiant, unburdened peace.
The trial of Harrison Vance was set to begin in the spring, and federal prosecutors assured us he would spend the rest of his natural life behind bars. The federal government had officially cleared the names of Emily's parents, restoring their honor and granting full restitution for the stolen family lands in West Virginia.
And the gossip in Greenwich?
Well, high society has a very short memory when you throw a charity gala that raises ten million dollars for displaced foster children—an event co-hosted by Emily and me, with my mother reluctantly sitting in the front row, applauding politely.
"Do you ever think about the whispers?" Emily asked softly, tracing the lapel of my jacket. "When we first got married? What people said about us?"
May you like
I smiled, pulling her just a little bit closer against my chest.
"Let them whisper," I said, pressing my lips to hers as the laughter of our children echoed through the hallways. "They only knew the story. We lived the miracle."
