Chapter 10 - Forever Untouchable
One year later.
The lawns of the Lancaster Estate were covered in white linen canopies, fairy lights, and thousands of fragrant white roses.
Music drifted across the ocean breeze as two hundred of our closest friends, family, and colleagues celebrated Alexander’s first birthday and our official wedding reception.
I stood on the stone terrace overlooking the water, holding a glass of sparkling cider. I wore an ethereal ivory lace dress that hugged my waist, feeling light, radiant, and completely free. Across the lawn, Arthur Duval was sitting in a comfortable garden chair, laughing heartily as our one-year-old son—chubby-legged, grinning, and already walking—wobbled toward him holding a stuffed bear.
Behind me, warm arms wrapped around my waist, pulling me back against a broad, solid chest.
“He has your determination,” Gabriel murmured, kissing the curve of my neck. “He just refused to let the nanny carry him. Insisted on walking across the entire lawn on his own.”
“He gets that from both of us,” I laughed, leaning my head back against Gabriel’s shoulder.
I looked out over the sparkling bay, watching the Lancaster shipping vessels glide smoothly across the horizon. Duval Holdings had been completely absorbed and rebranded as Vance-Lancaster Global; its stock was at an all-time high, its philanthropic foundation had funded three new children’s hospitals, and the Duval scandal was now nothing more than a footnote in corporate history textbooks.
Earlier that morning, my assistant had brought me the society column from the weekend edition.
A tiny, two-paragraph blurb on page twenty-two noted that Julian Duval’s appeal had been unanimously rejected by the appellate court, confirming his full twelve-year sentence. Another small note mentioned that Dalia Fontaine’s parole request had been denied due to disciplinary infractions in prison.
I had dropped the paper directly into the recycling bin without reading it twice.
Julian had spent years trying to convince the world—and me—that my worth was tied to his approval, that my body was flawed, that my happiness was impossible without his name. He had thought that by laughing at me on camera, he could diminish me forever.
He hadn't realized that the seed he tried to bury was always meant to bloom in the sun.
“What are you thinking about?” Gabriel asked softly, turning me in his arms so I was facing him.
I looked up into the eyes of my husband—the man who had loved me in the shadows and crowned me in the light.
“I was thinking,” I said, resting my hands against his chest, feeling the steady, dependable beat of his heart, “about that night at the Allesian Gala. When Julian asked you if the baby was yours.”
Gabriel smiled, a slow, breathtaking smile that reached his eyes. “And what did you say to him?”
“I told him he lost the right to ask,” I whispered.
Gabriel leaned down, his lips brushing mine with infinite tenderness. “And what is the truth, my love?”
I smiled, taking his hand and placing it gently against my stomach, where a new, secret fluttering had begun just three days ago—a second miracle, ready to join our family.
Gabriel’s breath hitched. His eyes widened in stunned, breathtaking realization.
May you like
“The truth,” I whispered against his lips, my heart overflowing with peace, “is that everything good in my life belongs to you.”
And as Gabriel lifted me into his arms under the golden autumn sun, surrounded by laughter, love, and the laughter of our son, I knew that no one would ever make me disappear again. I was home.
