Chapter 7 - The Reunion
Thirty minutes after the FBI cleared out the penthouse, a private town car pulled up to the rear entrance of Saint Jude’s Episcopal Church.
The funeral attendees had dispersed, but one car remained in the driveway: my father’s silver sedan.
I walked through the side doors of the chapel, my heart hammering against my chest. The scent of funeral lilies still hung heavy in the air, but the casket had been removed from the front of the sanctuary.
Sitting alone in the third pew, his head bowed in his hands, was my father.
"Dad?" I called out softly.
Thomas Vance rigidified. He slowly turned around, his eyes red-rimmed, his face aged by a decade of grief in seven days. He blinked, staring at me as if his mind was playing a cruel trick on his broken heart.
"Emily?" he whispered, standing up on shaky legs. "Am I... am I dreaming?"
"No, Dad," I cried, running down the center aisle as fast as my pregnant body would allow. "I'm here! I'm alive!"
He caught me in his arms, sobbing so hard his entire body shook. He pulled me close, kissing my hair, my cheeks, his hands trembling as he touched my face to ensure I was real flesh and blood.
"They said you were in the river," he wept, clutching me tightly. "My sweet girl... my baby... I thought I lost you both..."
"Michael lied," I whispered through my own tears, holding him close. "He tried to hurt us, Dad. But someone saved me."
My father looked over my shoulder. Standing at the back of the church, near the heavy wooden doors, was Dominic Moretti. He had his hands shoved into the pockets of his black coat, watching our reunion with a quiet, solemn expression.
Thomas pulled back, wiping his tears, and walked straight up to Dominic. My father—a quiet, gentle retired school principal—looked up at the broad, tattooed man and extended his hand.
"You're the man I called," Thomas said, his voice choking up. "The security specialist."
"I am, Mr. Vance," Dominic replied, taking my father's hand in a firm, respectful grip. "I brought your daughter back to you."
My father didn't just shake his hand; he pulled Dominic into a fierce hug. "Thank you. God bless you, son. Thank you."
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For the first time since I had met him, Dominic looked slightly uncomfortable, a faint flush appearing above his collar. He cleared his throat, gently patting my father’s back.
"She's a tough woman, Mr. Vance," Dominic said quietly, glancing at me with a soft glimmer in his grey eyes. "She did the hard part. She survived."
