Chapter 6 - Healing and Whispers
Spring gave way to a brilliant, sun-drenched Chicago summer.
The gardens surrounding the Rossi estate were overflowing with blooming hydrangeas and fragrant lavender, their colors vivid against the sprawling green lawns that swept down toward the shores of Lake Michigan.
Inside the mansion, the heavy, oppressive silence that had lingered since the death of Lily’s mother was finally gone. In its place was the sound of laughter, footsteps, and the unmistakable, cheerful ring of a child’s voice reading aloud.
On a warm Thursday afternoon, Beatrice sat on a wicker settee on the shaded veranda, knitting a small blue blanket while watching Lily chase a golden retriever puppy across the grass.
Mateo Calder walked out through the French doors, carrying a tall glass of iced lemonade and handing it down to Beatrice with a polite, respectful nod.
“The Boss is wrapping up his meetings with the port authorities,” Mateo noted, leaning against the stone balustrade and watching Lily tumble into the grass with the puppy. “He should be up in twenty minutes.”
“Thank you, Mateo,” Beatrice smiled, taking a sip of the lemonade. Her hand had healed almost completely, leaving only a faint silvery scar across her knuckle as a reminder of the night everything changed.
“You know,” Mateo said, folding his arms across his broad chest, “in the five years I’ve worked by Leo’s side, I’ve never seen him trust anyone the way he trusts you.”
“I just try to keep things running smoothly,” Beatrice replied modestly, lowering her knitting needles.
“It’s more than that,” Mateo chuckled softly. “Leo hasn't smiled like that—real smiles, not the kind he flashes at politicians and rival bosses—since his wife passed away. You brought warmth back into these stone walls, Beatrice. We were all just ghosts haunting a mausoleum before you took over.”
Before Beatrice could blush and find a polite way to change the subject, the heavy double doors behind them opened, and Leo stepped out onto the veranda.
He had removed his suit jacket, his white sleeves rolled up, looking relaxed and free of the crushing corporate and syndicate burdens that usually weighed him down. His eyes immediately found Lily on the lawn, and a genuine, warm smile broke across his face. Then, his gaze shifted to Beatrice.
He walked over, sitting down on the settee beside her. The space between them felt intimate, natural, and entirely unforced.
“How is she doing?” Leo asked, nodding toward Lily, who was now expertly braiding a daisy chain.
“Dr. Vance called this morning,” Beatrice reported, her face glowing with pride. “Her lung capacity is up fifteen percent. The specialist said she’s completely past the trauma threshold from the asthma attack. She hasn't had a single nightmare in over a month.”
Leo looked at Beatrice for a long moment, his dark eyes filled with a quiet, overwhelming gratitude. “And you? Are you settling into your new rooms all right? Is the staff treating you with the respect you deserve?”
“More than I deserve,” Beatrice admitted softly, looking down at her hands. “Sometimes I still feel like I’m going to wake up in my old basement room and realize this was all a very nice dream.”
“It’s not a dream,” Leo said. He reached over, gently taking her hand—the same hand he had pulled up from the broken glass on the kitchen floor weeks ago. His thumb brushed softly over her knuckles. “You earned every inch of this, Beatrice. Never doubt that.”
A sudden, warm breeze swept across the lake, rustling the leaves of the oak trees and carrying the sound of Lily shouting, “Papa! Bee! Come look at the frog I found!”
Leo laughed—a rich, booming sound that would have terrified his enemies downtown, but sounded like pure music here on the veranda.
May you like
He stood up, offering his free hand to Beatrice. “Well? You heard the princess. Shall we go inspect the frog?”
Beatrice took his hand, standing up beside him without hesitation. She wasn't small, she wasn't invisible, and she didn't need to apologize for taking up space anymore.
