Chapter 10 - Sunday Silence
The autumn leaves turned brilliant shades of amber and gold, carpeting the estate’s long driveway in a rustling blanket of color.
It was Sunday morning—the exact time, three months ago, when my life had been upended by a son who thought age equaled weakness.
I stood at the dining room table, pouring fresh coffee from a silver pot. Sunlight streamed through the large bay windows, casting warm, golden rays across the polished mahogany.
There were no attorneys waiting in the shadows. There were no loan sharks pounding on the front gates. There was only absolute, unbroken peace.
I walked over to the bay window, holding my coffee cup in both hands, looking out across the emerald lawns toward the security gates in the distance.
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I had survived the fall. I had survived the betrayal.
And as I took a slow, comforting sip of my coffee, I knew with absolute certainty that the Halstead estate—and the woman who held its keys—would never be broken again.
