Chapter 10 - A Sweet Forever
The clock on the mantelpiece ticked loudly, the hands creeping closer to midnight. Outside, the fog rolled thick and heavy off the lake, swallowing the moonlight until the world outside the glass walls was pitch black.
Penny stood in the center of the living room, holding a heavy iron fireplace poker like a spear, while Vincent stood by the front windows, his silhouette cutting a sharp, lethal figure against the dim interior light.
Then, the crunch of gravel echoed from the driveway.
One car. Then two.
Headlights swept across the glass panels as two black SUVs slid to a halt near the front steps. Doors slammed shut. Heavy, hurried footsteps trampled across the stone pathway.
Vincent didn't flinch. He raised his weapon, flicking off the safety with a sharp click that sounded like a death knell in the quiet room.
“Stay behind the structural pillar,” Vincent ordered without turning around.
“Not a chance,” Penny said, stepping up beside him with the iron poker gripped firmly in her hand. “I’m not hiding anymore, Vincent.”
A heavy kick smashed the front oak door off its hinges, splintering wood flying across the entryway.
Three of Moretti’s remaining enforcers surged into the house, guns raised, expecting an easy ambush.
They didn't even get their weapons leveled.
Vincent fired twice with ruthless, surgical precision. Two men dropped instantly. Before the third could react, Penny swung the heavy iron poker with all the pent-up frustration, anger, and strength of twenty-four years of repressed survival, catching the thug squarely across the collarbone. He crashed hard against the coffee table and crumpled into unconsciousness.
Silence descended upon the room once more, broken only by the heavy breathing of the two people standing amidst the wreckage.
From the open doorway, a trembling, pathetic voice whimpered.
“Help... please... help me!”
Penny stepped around the pillar. Stepping out of the fog into the shattered doorway was Brenda Hayes. She looked worse than she had at the rail yard—disheveled, bleeding from a minor graze on her arm, and crying hysterically.
“Penny!” Brenda sobbed, stumbling forward. “Thank God! They were going to kill me! You have to help me, baby! Tell Mr. Marlow to save me again!”
Penny stopped ten feet away from her mother. She looked at the woman who had sold her for two hundred thousand dollars, the woman who had spent a lifetime telling her she was worthless, unlovable, and destined to be a burden.
There was no anger left in Penny’s heart. There was only profound, liberating pity.
“You’re safe now, Brenda,” Penny said quietly, using her first name for the very first time. “Vincent’s men will put you on another bus. They’ll make sure you have food and shelter. But you are never coming back into my life.”
Brenda stared at her in horror. “Penny! I’m your mother! You can't just abandon me—”
“You abandoned me a long time ago,” Penny interrupted, her voice entirely steady, clear, and resonant. She turned her head slightly, meeting Vincent’s dark, approving gaze as he stepped up beside her, wrapping a strong, protective arm around her waist. “I have a real family now. And I’m finally home.”
Vincent signaled to Frankie, who stepped out of the shadows by the driveway, flanked by two enforcers.
“Take her away,” Vincent instructed coldly. “Make sure she reaches the state line. And make sure she understands that if she ever breathes Penelope’s name again, God won't be able to save her.”
As Frankie escorted a screaming, protesting Brenda back toward the SUVs, the vehicles turned around and sped away into the foggy night, disappearing into the darkness for good.
The lake house grew quiet again.
Vincent closed the damaged front door as best as he could, then turned around, looking down at Penny with an expression of such raw, unadulterated adoration that it took her breath away.
“Are you all right?” he asked softly, his hands coming up to cup her face, his thumbs gently tracing her cheekbones.
“I’m better than all right,” Penny whispered, a radiant, genuine smile breaking across her face. “I’m free.”
Vincent pulled her flush against his chest, burying his face in her hair as he held her tighter than he ever had before.
“Good,” he murmured against her lips just before capturing them in a deep, passionate, and utterly permanent kiss. “Because now, you’re stuck with me forever.”
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Six months later, the sign outside Sweet Confections on the North Side of Chicago had changed. It now read: *Sweet Confections & Marlow Bakery—Est. Forever.*
Inside, the ovens were running hot, the air smelled of warm vanilla, fresh brioche, and roasted coffee, and through the front window, Chicago’s most feared mafia boss could occasionally be seen apron-clad and smiling, happily eating the mistakes while the woman he loved ruled her world with flour on her hands and absolute joy in her heart.
