Chapter 10 - THE ROAD AHEAD
The first snow of the year fell on Chicago on the final day of November, blanketing the city in a clean, blinding white.
From the floor-to-ceiling windows of my study, the skyline of the Loop looked sharp and clear against the winter sky, unmarred by fog or shadow.
Down in the east-wing courtyard, the snow was falling softly on the brick pathways and the bare branches of the oak trees.
Footsteps echoed softly in the hallway outside my study door—steady, even, deliberate footsteps.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
The door opened without a knock.
Phillip walked in first, wearing a heavy winter coat, his shoulders back, his head held high. Behind him came Eric, leaning slightly against the doorframe for balance, and Adam, walking arm-in-arm with Angela.
None of them were running marathons yet. Their movements were still measured, deliberate, requiring effort and focus. But they were walking.
“Dad,” Phillip said, his voice stronger and clearer than it had been in two years. “We’re going outside. Angela says the snow looks like brushed steel today.”
I stood up from my desk, walking out from behind the heavy mahogany barrier that had separated me from the world for so long. I didn't reach for my bourbon. I didn't check the basement security monitors.
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I looked at my three sons, standing tall and proud in the winter light, and then at Angela, who stood beside them with that quiet, unshakable smile.
“Put your gloves on, boys,” I said, my voice thick with emotion, a warm and genuine smile finally breaking across my face. “I’m coming with you.”
