Chapter 7 - Healing in the Quiet
Six months later.
The news cycle had long moved on from the Hart scandal. Richard Hart had accepted a plea bargain that guaranteed thirty years in federal prison, while Vanessa was serving an eight-year sentence for her involvement in asset fraud and conspiracy.
I stepped back from daily operations at Callahan Enterprises, appointing Marcus as temporary CEO so I could spend real, uninterrupted time with my daughter.
We moved out of the massive, cold estate in Greenwich—a place too full of ghost-like memories—and bought a modest, beautiful stone house near the coast in coastal Maine, far away from the corporate wars of New York.
Our days became simple and slow. We walked along the rocky shore, collected sea glass, and restored an old wooden sailboat in the barn behind the house.
One morning, while helping Ellie pack her backpack for her new local elementary school, she pulled a small drawing out of her folder.
It was a picture of our new stone house, with two figures standing in front of it—a big stick figure and a small stick figure. But off to the side, painted in faint watercolor yellow, was a soft, glowing shape that looked like an angel.
“Who is that?” I asked gently, pointing to the yellow shape.
“That’s Mommy,” Ellie said happily. “She’s not sad anymore, Dad. She told me in my dream that we’re allowed to be happy now.”
May you like
I looked at my eight-year-old daughter—the girl who had saved us both by having the courage to speak up in a powder room on what was supposed to be my wedding day.
“She’s right,” I said, kissing her forehead. “We are.”
