Chapter 10 - THE KING’S ECHOThree years later.
The Swiss Alps glistened under a brilliant, cloudless blue sky.
A beautiful, modern wooden chalet sat high on the hillside overlooking the quiet town of Interlaken. The air was crisp, smelling of pine needles, fresh snow, and sweet mountain air.
In the garden behind the chalet, seven-year-old Lila was playing with a small white rabbit in the grass. She wore a bright red coat, her laughter ringing out across the quiet valley—clear, bright, and melodious.
The surgery at Johns Hopkins had been a complete success. For the first time in her life, my little girl could hear the world around her—the sound of the wind through the trees, the sound of the birds, and the sound of my voice calling her name.
I sat on the wooden porch, drinking a cup of hot tea, watching her play.
A dark black sedan pulled up the gravel driveway, stopping near the front steps.
The door opened, and a man stepped out.
He wore a long dark wool coat, his graying hair neatly combed back. He walked with a slight limp, his right hand resting inside his coat pocket, but his posture was regal, powerful, and tall.
It was Damian.
He had survived the war. It had taken three years, dozens of trials, and the complete destruction of the Syndicate Council, but he had cleared the shadows from his world once and for all.
Lila stopped playing. She turned her head, hearing the sound of his boots crunching against the gravel.
Her wide eyes lit up with pure joy.
“Damian!” she yelled—her voice loud, clear, and perfectly articulated.
She ran across the lawn as fast as her small legs could carry her, throwing her arms around his waist.
Damian dropped to one knee on the gravel, wrapping his arms tightly around her, burying his face in her soft hair, his shoulders shaking with silent emotion.
“I hear you, Damian,” Lila whispered into his ear, pulling back to look into his gray eyes. “I hear your heart.”
Damian looked up from Lila, his eyes meeting mine as I stood up from the porch steps, tears of joy streaming down my face.
He stood up slowly, stepping across the green grass toward me, holding out his hand.
“Is the maid position still open, Mrs. Reyes?” Damian asked, a warm, genuine smile breaking across his handsome face.
I stepped into his arms, wrapping my hands around his neck, pulling him into a deep, long-awaited kiss under the bright Swiss sun.
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“The job is taken, Mr. Volkov,” I whispered against his lips. “For life.”
THE END
