Chapter 14
Spring arrived in Chicago with a brilliant explosion of green across the North Side parks. The estate’s gardens, once neglected and overgrown, were now vibrant with blooming tulips and manicured walking paths where Emma’s mother frequently sat in the afternoon sun, enjoying the fresh air alongside Rosa.
On a bright Saturday morning, I stood beside the parallel bars in the private rehabilitation wing. My arms shook slightly with the strain, but my legs—though still carrying the phantom echoes of an old injury—supported my weight as I took two deliberate, independent steps forward without holding onto the steel rails.
Emma stood three feet away, holding her breath, her hands clasped tightly over her chest with tears welling in her eyes.
“Don't you dare fall now, Moretti,” she whispered, a watery smile breaking across her face.
I took one more step, closing the distance between us, until I was standing right in front of her. I reached out, wrapping my arms securely around her waist, pulling her flush against my chest as a triumphant laugh escaped my lips.
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“I told you,” I murmured against her hair, my voice thick with emotion. “I don't break.”
She buried her face in my shoulder, her arms wrapping fiercely around my neck as she let out a soft sob of pure, unadulterated relief. The bullet had tried to take everything from me, but it had led me straight to the only person who could help me reclaim my life.
