Chapter 8 - The Archives Unlocked
A week after the gala, the atmosphere back at the estate was peaceful. The heavy rain had cleared, leaving the Napa Valley bathed in golden afternoon sunlight.
Sadi sat at the mahogany desk in the second-floor archive room, reviewing a stack of medical recovery milestones Desmond had achieved with his physical therapist.
The heavy double doors opened.
Desmond rolled into the room—not in his motorized wheelchair, but in a standard manual chair he only used when his legs needed a break.
He rolled up beside her desk and dropped a heavy, leather-bound key ring onto the wood.
Sadi looked up, surprised. “What’s this?”
“The keys to the three locked archive rooms,” Desmond said quietly. “My father kept them locked because he didn't trust anyone with our family’s history. But history is just a collection of mistakes made by men who thought they were invincible.”
Sadi picked up the heavy brass keys, feeling their cool weight. “Are you sure?”
“I’m sure,” he said, reaching out to cover her hand with his. “There are no secrets left between us, Sadi. Not in this house.”
She smiled, turning her hand to interlace her fingers with his.
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The mafia boss who had built an empire with his bare hands, who had survived a bomb and a bullet, who had thought his life was over when his legs stopped working—had finally let someone past the fortress walls.
And she had no intention of ever leaving.
