Chapter 9 - The Santa Fe Sun
Two years later.
The November rain of Chicago was a distant memory. The sun was setting over the red rock mesas of Santa Fe, New Mexico, casting a warm, brilliant amber glow across the courtyard of Marcus’s primary estate.
The yard was filled with the sound of children playing. Sophie, now eight years old, was running through the sagebrush, her dark hair woven into a perfect, elaborate braid that she had learned to do herself. She was chasing a golden retriever puppy, her laughter bouncing off the adobe walls of the house.
Marcus stood by the outdoor kitchen, preparing a large pot of traditional green chile stew. He looked relaxed, his face free of the heavy lines of exhaustion that had defined his life since Elena's death.
Eleanor Vance walked out onto the portal, holding a glass of white wine. She had recently been named CEO of the Whitfield Hotel Group, allowing Marcus to step back into a full-time role as a father.
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"The quarterly numbers just came in, Marcus," Eleanor smiled, leaning against the wooden pillar. "The new empathy-driven service protocols have increased guest retention by forty percent. It turns out people like being treated like human beings."
Marcus stirred the stew, a soft, content smile touching his lips. "It’s a simple formula, Eleanor. The foundation only holds if the floor is kind."
