Chapter 14 - Epilogue: The Garden in Lake Forest Z
Two years later.
The summer sun was golden over the rolling hills of Lake Forest.
The sprawling stone mansion that had once belonged to Vivienne Vale was no longer a cold, sterile museum of old-money isolation. The iron gates were permanently open, the heavy velvet drapes had been replaced with airy linen curtains, and the dark mahogany furniture had been swapped for bright, open-concept designs.
The estate had been converted into the Hayes-Vale Retreat Center—a peaceful, sanctuary space where hospitality workers, domestic abuse survivors, and community organizers could come for free weekend retreats, mental health wellness programs, and educational workshops.
On the back terrace, a long wooden table was set under the shade of a massive oak tree.
Sofia was sitting at the head of the table, showing a group of young volunteers how to make her famous traditional empanadas, her laughter echoing across the manicured lawn. Mia, now a licensed attorney working full-time as the foundation's chief legal counsel, was sitting nearby on a lounge chair, reviewing a brief while sipping fresh lemonade.
Down near the rose garden, I stood holding a wooden watering can, watching a butter-yellow butterfly flutter across the red petals.
My hair was long again, reaching halfway down my back, soft and thick, swaying gently in the summer breeze.
Footsteps sounded on the grass behind me. Soft, familiar, grounded steps.
Dominic walked up, wearing a simple white linen shirt with the sleeves rolled up, carrying our ten-month-old daughter, Sophia, in his arms. The little girl had bright, curious dark eyes just like her father, and a small tuft of dark curls resting on her forehead.
"Look who just woke up from her nap," Dominic said softly, stepping close to me.
Sophia babbled happily, reaching her tiny hands out toward me.
I set the watering can down, smiling brightly as I took my daughter into my arms, kissing her soft, warm cheek. "Hi, my beautiful girl. Did you sleep well?"
Dominic wrapped his arms around both of us from behind, resting his chin on my shoulder, looking down at our daughter with a devotion so pure it warmed my entire soul.
"Arthur called from Switzerland this morning," Dominic murmured, his voice rich with quiet contentment. "He said he’s flying in next month for Sophia’s first birthday."
"Good," I smiled, touching our daughter's tiny fingers. "And your mother?"
Dominic paused for a brief beat. Vivienne had lived quietly in a private estate in Scottsdale for the past three years, entirely removed from Chicago society, her political influence completely gone.
"She sent a silver baby rattle in the mail yesterday," Dominic said quietly. "No letter. Just the rattle."
"Did you keep it?" I asked gently.
"I put it in the foundation's charity auction box," Dominic replied smoothly, a small, knowing smile playing on his lips. "It will fund three law school textbooks for next year's scholars."
I laughed softly, turning my head to kiss his lips—a sweet, deep kiss that tasted like summer and peace.
"You've become very pragmatic, Mr. Vale," I teased gently.
"I learned from the best," he replied, taking my hand and lacing his fingers through mine.
We stood together in the warm afternoon sunlight, watching our daughter laugh as the butterfly drifted past her face.
Behind us, the terrace was filled with the sound of laughter, music, and the joyful chatter of people who had found safety and hope in a place that had once brought so much pain.
May you like
I looked at the house, at the garden, at my husband and my child.
The scars of the past were still there, quiet memories buried deep beneath the earth. But like the roses blooming all around us, we had grown through the dark soil, breaking through the stone, to build a life that belonged entirely, beautifully, and triumphantly to us.
