Chapter 10 - The New Dawn
By nine o'clock Wednesday morning, the sun broke through the clouds over Newport, casting a brilliant gold light across the calm, blue waters of the bay.
The mansion on the hill was still scorched black along the west wing, but thirty workers were already on the roof, pulling down the burned beams and clearing the stone terrace.
In the great hall—where seventy-nine hours earlier Stefano Marquetti had lay bleeding on the stone floor—the smell of smoke was gone, replaced by the scent of ocean air and fresh paint.
The large mahogany table in the center of the room was cleared.
Sitting at the head of the table was Stefano Marquetti. He was dressed in a sharp, dark blue suit, his left arm out of the sling, his posture straight and immovable.
Beside him stood Danny Falcone, holding a fresh leather folder filled with clean, stamped legal documents.
At the far end of the hall, the heavy oak doors opened.
Alice Brennan walked in.
She was not wearing her grey scrubs. She wore a simple, elegant dark green wool dress, her long brown hair falling loose over her shoulders. She looked pale, but her eyes were clear, steady, and radiant in the morning light.
Beside her walked two dogs: Maya, her brindle coat shining like copper in the sun, and Nero, who walked with his broad head level with her knee, his massive tail wagging in a slow, rhythmic arc against her dress.
She stopped ten feet from the table.
"The bank in Boston confirmed the box," Alice said, her voice carrying clearly through the high room. "The trust was established under my mother's name. It’s clean."
Stefano stood up slowly. He didn't use his cane. He walked around the long table until he was standing three feet from her.
"The docks are clear," Stefano said softly. "Borisov’s network in Providence is gone. Senator Vance’s office was raided by the federal prosecutor two hours ago. The paper trail Carmine left was very... thorough."
He looked down at the silver key resting on the gold chain around her neck.
"You're free, Alexandra," Stefano said. "Your record is clean. Your apartment in Newport has been paid for three years in advance, or you can take the transfer to the house in Maine. The Swiss account has two million dollars in it. Nobody will ever ask you for a Vance name again."
Alice looked at him—at the sharp, intelligent face of the man who had survived a sniper's bullet, an arson fire, and a traitor in his own house, only to stand before her with his hands empty and his eyes filled with something quiet and deep.
She looked down at Nero, who had dropped onto his haunches between them, leaning his heavy head against Stefano’s leg while keeping his left paw resting firmly on the toe of Alice’s leather shoe.
"What about the dog?" Alice asked softly.
Stefano looked down at the mastiff, a faint smile touching his dark lips. "Nero doesn't like Maine. He says the salt air up there is bad for his coat."
Alice let out a small, soft breath that sounded almost like a laugh.
She stepped forward—one step, two steps—until the distance between them was gone.
She reached up with her right hand—her bare, pale hand—and rested her palm against Stefano’s cheek. Not petting. Not rubbing. Just pressure. The kind of touch that said: I'm here. I'm not going anywhere.
Stefano raised his hand and covered hers, his long fingers wrapping around her wrist, feeling the strong, steady beat of her pulse beneath his touch.
"I have a shift at County General in three weeks," Alice whispered, her gray eyes locked onto his. "If I stay, you're going to have to let me change your dressings myself."
May you like
"I wouldn't let anyone else touch them," Stefano said softly.
Behind them, Maya stretched out on the sunny patch of stone near the great window, while Nero let out a long, heavy sigh of absolute contentment, resting his chin on his paws as the light of the new day filled the room.
