Chapter 10 - Dawn at Blackwood Point
The sun rose over Blackwood Point, burning away the last remnants of the storm clouds to reveal a brilliant, endless expanse of azure ocean.
The estate at Blackwood Point was finally quiet—not with the suffocating, toxic silence of a tomb, but with the peaceful, living quiet of a home. The armed guards at the perimeter gates had been reduced by half, the motion-tracking turrets powered down, and the underground control room monitors turned off permanently.
In the sun-drenched solarium on the third floor, the glass dome was filled with the soft, warm scent of blooming jasmine and fresh coffee.
Vincent sat at a small wrought-iron table by the window, reviewing a final shipping manifest, though his eyes kept drifting toward the center of the room.
There, walking between the parallel wooden parallel bars with slow, agonizingly deliberate steps, was Matteo. His legs were braced in light orthopedic supports, his hands gripping the wooden rails tightly, his knuckles white with concentration.
Clara stood right beside him, her hands hovering just inches from his waist, ready to catch him if he stumbled, but giving him the space to carry his own weight.
“One, two, three,” Clara counted calmly. “Don't rush it, Matteo. Keep your shoulders back. Feel the floor beneath your feet.”
Matteo gritted his teeth, his face flushed with exertion, but he took one more step forward. Then another.
Vincent watched them, a profound sense of peace settling deep into his chest for the first time in fourteen months. The cameras were gone. The paranoia was gone. The fortress had finally become a home.
The heavy double doors of the solarium opened, and Dominic walked in, holding a steaming mug of black coffee and a small white envelope.
“Coast Guard just radioed, boss,” Dominic said quietly, a faint smile on his rugged face. “Vance and his surviving men are locked away in a federal maximum-security holding facility in Boston. The network is completely clean. No more shadows.”
“Good,” Vincent said, taking the coffee mug from Dominic. He looked over at the envelope. “What’s that?”
“Resignation letter,” Dominic replied smoothly, nodding toward Clara. “She says her contract is officially fulfilled. The boy is walking, the house is safe, and her check cleared this morning.”
Vincent’s expression tightened. He stood up immediately from the table, walking across the marble floor as Clara helped Matteo lower himself safely back into his wheelchair.
“You’re leaving?” Vincent asked, his voice dropping slightly as he approached her.
Clara wiped her hands on a small towel, picked up her faded canvas satchel from the floor, and looked up at him with those unyielding gray eyes.
“My shift is over, Mr. Rossi,” Clara said softly. “You don't need a warden anymore. You just need to be a father.”
Vincent looked at her for a long, quiet moment. He reached out and placed the unopened white envelope back onto the table, sliding it away with two fingers.
“The agency contract was for six months,” Vincent said, a slow, warm smile breaking across his face. “And according to my calculations, you still have five months and two weeks left on your probation period, Ms. Hayes.”
Clara raised an eyebrow, a flicker of amusement dancing in her eyes. “Is that so?”
“It is,” Vincent replied firmly. “Besides, someone needs to make sure Chef Bernard doesn't ruin the salmon, and someone needs to make sure I don't turn back into a ghost.”
From his wheelchair, Matteo looked up at Clara, a tentative, genuine smile touching the corners of his mouth.
“Stay, Clara,” Matteo whispered, his voice clear and strong. “We have more walking to do.”
Clara looked down at the boy, then back up at Vincent. The iron walls around her own heart seemed to soften just a fraction. She slung her canvas bag back over her shoulder, letting out a dry, amused sigh.
May you like
“Fine,” Clara said, shaking her head. “But I’m renegotiating my grocery budget.”
Vincent laughed—a rich, resonant sound that echoed up through the sunlit glass dome and out across the open ocean, welcoming the dawn of a brand-new day.
