Chapter 10 - The Legacy of The Wolf
That evening, as the sun set behind the Vermont mountains, painting the sky in soft shades of orange, rose, and gold, the estate was filled with the warm, comforting peace of a real home.
Inside the cozy dining room, a delicious home-cooked dinner was set on the long oak table. Martha, Vincent, Owen, and I sat together, sharing stories, laughing, and enjoying the quiet warmth that none of us had known during our years in the dark.
After dinner, I walked out onto the porch alone, holding a glass of sparkling water, looking out at the endless blanket of stars covering the mountain sky.
The heavy weight I had carried for twenty-two years—the paranoia, the isolation, the relentless burden of being "The Wolf"—had finally lifted from my shoulders.
A soft step sounded on the wooden floorboards behind me.
I turned around. Owen stood in his pajamas, holding his golden retriever puppy under his arm, looking up at me with those sharp, observant brown eyes that had walked up to my car outside Lincoln Ridge Elementary eight months ago.
"Dad says you’re going back to Chicago tomorrow," Owen said softly.
"Just for a few days to sign some papers, Owen," I replied, kneeling down to his level on the cool porch floor. "Then I’m coming back for the summer."
Owen reached into his pajama pocket and pulled out a small, shiny object, pressing it into my hand.
I looked down. It was a small river stone he had polished, painted with a neat, tiny black wolf head.
"So you don't forget us while you're in the big city," Owen said with a shy smile.
I closed my hand tight around the stone, feeling a profound warmth fill my chest—a warmth stronger than any wealth, power, or reputation I had ever built.
May you like
"I could never forget you, son," I whispered, pulling him into a gentle hug.
I stood up, holding the boy’s hand as we walked back into the warm, glowing house together, stepping out of the cold shadows of the past and into a bright, peaceful future.
